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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293311">Too Much to Calculate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenadottir/pseuds/ravenadottir'>ravenadottir</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Love Island (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Control Issues, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mutual Pining, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:21:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>122,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenadottir/pseuds/ravenadottir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl is the Irish tech driven boy you met back in Casa Amor.<br/>The boy that needed more confidence, but captivated you by his sweet, shy ways of talking and dealing with romance.<br/>He's not the smoothest, but that's not what you're looking for, and in him, you found an intelligent and strong person,<br/>who's willing to prove his value.<br/>However, not everything is perfect, and after leaving the Villa, you and Carl are gonna share a life together. Or try.<br/>That is, if you can find a common ground and let go of your pride, to put your love above yourselves.<br/>There's a lot to be learned, and a lot to grow, to get there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carl/Main Character (Love Island), Chelsea/Main Character (Love Island), Hope/Noah (Love Island), Noah &amp; Main Character (Love Island)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. His house</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After leaving the airport in a cab, you and Carl arrive at his place, in the morning. You can feel the exhaustion from a poor night of sleep and the trip back to England. Carl has visible bags under his eyes and he barely stands still. You take the keys to open the door as he offers you a faint smile. The door opens to the most luxurious room you’ve ever been in before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mouth hangs open, as your eyes follow the architecture of the room. The high-class furniture scattered on a well decorated space takes your breath away. It would be, this is Carl we’re talking about, so it had to be a living room straight out of a magazine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plumps himself on the leather couch, extending his tired legs on the L adjacent seats, sighing, taking his shoes off, to place them by the rim of the Persian carpet. You close the door behind you, taking a seat on the chair besides the sofa. A much lighter tone to its leather, but just as well-appointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…babe… what is this place?” your eyes roam on the light spots spread across the ceiling and plaster mold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it?” he yawns and stretches with a lazy smile on the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… what…” you cradle your face in both hands, admiring your surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mentions getting up. “I would love to show you everything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re too tired. I don’t mind.” You throw a dismissive hand, still letting your gaze fall on the wooden sculptures by the dining room, or the wooden panels that connect the sitting and eating areas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, come on. I wanna show you...” he pauses. “Babe.” His smile reaches his eyes as he yawns once more, getting up from his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so cute when you call me babe.” you give him a lingering peck on the cheek, luring a sweet smile as he takes your hand to lead you, across the hallway. The living room is very elegant, and although there’s something missing, you can’t quite pin what it is. As you follow him, he switches the lights on, stepping in a new room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the kitchen.” he gestures, cracking his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take your time to absorb every detail of a perfectly constructed kitchen. “Wow… you never cook, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope… it’s a rare occasion. I usually have takeout.” He eyes you curiously. “How do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… no spices anywhere to be found. Your knives, wooden spoons and utensils have zero signs of use… and this is just…” you grin. “Too clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very observing.” Carl looks around, fingers laced behind his head. “That’s my girlfriend…” he winks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind, I’d love to cook in here... all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And while you do it, you could teach me some things. I’m always ready to learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands glide on the counter, feeling the cold marble top as you divert from the white leather stools from under the counter. The silver and steel colored cabinets catch your eye, giving you the feeling of being in a display of some fancy furniture store.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl is already by the door, adjusting the thermostat, and as he turns the knob, you can feel a light breeze coming from the ceiling, refreshing the ambiance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s much better.” he stretches again with low energy but keeps a smile on the corner of his mouth as he watches you roaming on the kitchen, observing every inch of your surroundings, focusing now on the light pendants hanging from the ceiling and the light boards on the walls, illuminating the stove;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is… so gorgeous!” as you notice the drowsiness on your boyfriend’s face, you move closer to the exit door. “Alright, babe. Let’s go see the rest, so you can get some sleep.” you let out a suave chuckle, your hand on the lower of his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were tired too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was, but that living room. It pumped me! Well, now the kitchen too. I’m sensing a pattern here…” you squint, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so cute.” Carl takes your hand and reaches for another door, right beside the kitchen, the carvings follow a gothic pattern from top to bottom. “This is my home office. Not too big, but…” he shrugs, stepping aside so you can walk in. “It’s an office. It does the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha… is every seat of this house in leather?” you gesture to his chair behind the mahogany desk, reflected on the glass top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” his eyes travel as if he was doing a mental count. “Yeah… I-I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head with a laugh, grazing your palm on the shelves behind the seat, observing books and gadgets neatly arranged, either by size, style or year. “This is the most beautiful home office I’ve ever seen, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, thank you.” His gaze follows yours as you walk around the desk to join him, by the door. “I do spend most of my time either here or in the TV room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of confusion escapes you. “TV room? Oh, that’s what’s missing!” you snap your fingers with resolution. “I didn’t see any TV in the living room, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no!” he smiles. “That’s just for parties and guests, and occasionally, rarely my family. My TV room is far from that one.” He walks a few steps into the hallway, turning the knob of yet, another room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With your eyes wide and your mouth hanging open, you step in, following Carl as he gestures widely to the furniture. Your voice trembles with surprise. “Is this…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” His grin causes wrinkles on the corners of his eyes. “A Star Trek themed room. Is where I play my games, watch my shows, movies… and where I pretty much spend all my free time. Except the office, of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is another level of…” you tilt your head, looking at him. “…fan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” he folds his arms over his chest, clearly curious about your reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly…?” you take your time to answer, before absorbing every inch of the control panels or the red leather chairs, resting their backs to a spacious black couch, pointed to a giant TV screen. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like it?” he searches your eyes, insecure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you joking?” you take a seat on one of the red chairs, noticing now the game consoles organized by year on the panels by the wall. “I love it! This is amazing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs with relief, flicking a switch. “Then take a look at this!” the panels light up at his touch, the various colors bathe the ceiling and walls, bringing a sincere smile on Carl’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your face is also immersed in the rays of colorful lights and as he approaches, Carl observes the patterns that form on your skin and hair, tilting his head to watch them shine on you, a tender tone to his own eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look beautiful from here.” He takes your hands, brushing his lips on your knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do too… I didn’t think it was possible.” You can also make some of the light beams on his pale complexion, a smile planted on your lips. After a moment, he takes the remote control, turning the TV on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you say, wanna watch something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” your eyes fall on his slumped posture. “You know what, maybe later. But this… is the most amazing tv room I’ve ever seen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, thanks. Babe.” he throws his arms around your waist, kissing your forehead. “Come on, let me show you my room. We can come back later with some dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! I’m starving!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing the door behind him, he walks towards the last room on the hallway, you in tow. As you walk in, another “just came out of a magazine” room. “Is your entire house decorated by Alidad?!” you let out a chuckle, palming the wood panel behind the headboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do find Alidad’s style rather opulent…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn your attention to him, curiosity pouring out with a smug folding of your arms. “Then who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl shrugs with an innocent grin. “Just a couple of designers... I’ll give you their number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a small fortune to pay for it, ‘cause wow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head shakes with disbelief as your eyes fall on the shapes jumping from the panel, its tones of chocolate harmonizing perfectly with the other features of the room. “This bedroom is very you, Carl.” you walk around, feeling the textures, now studying closely the sheer curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a good thing?” he turns to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s see, shall we? Pretty? Check.” he shakes his head, coyly trying to hide a smile as you continue. “Modern? Check. I wanna lie down and keep staring at it? Check!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You give me way more props than I deserve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You approach him, your fingertips playing with the lapels of his shirt. “You’re about to get some props, but you deserve every single one of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pale cheeks reach a deep tone of crimson, not being able to hide his nervous chuckle. “You love to embarrass me, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly? Yeah! You look really cute when you’re all flustered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl scratches the back of his head, grinning. He heads to the window, sliding the curtains to the side and unlocking the hitches, a draft coming in, cooling down the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But seriously, this is incredible, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you like it. I thought maybe you’d think it’s too much.” he sits on the edge of the bed, nodding for you to join him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it! Taste is not debatable, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess… some people might disagree, though.” He raises his brows, suddenly his gaze falling on his closet doors, a sheer sheet of a patterned glass on the frames. “You really don’t think it’s too much then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s gorgeous. And very you. Trust me. It’s a compliment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would be baffled by the number of people that feel intimidated by the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And by people you mean… girls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts awkwardly on his seat, avoiding your gaze. “Pretty much… some of them would say that I’m a snob.” He bites the skin around his fingernails, a little shyly talking as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, out of all people?! That’s insane!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you don’t think I’m a snob?” he narrows his eyes with confusion, looking at you expectantly, a bit of bleeding on his ring fingertip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not! Maybe because you’re shy… and you have a decent taste, that might send the wrong idea… But I know you, and I would never describe you as a “snob” man. That’s crazy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down for a moment, fiddling with his fingers. “Thanks, babe. That means a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sense a certain sadness in his voice, noticing the bruised on his fingertips. “Hey… how about this.” You take his hands in yours, caressing your thumb on the heels of his hands. “You could take a shower, and then we could eat something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His light blue eyes beam, his head turning to face you. “That’s a great idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Off you go, then. I’ll be here, waiting for my turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the closet doors to get towels, his voice trailing off. “I would invite you, but I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know. Don’t worry about it.” You shoot him a tranquil smile, propping yourself on the mattress. He steps in the bathroom and you head to the living room, grabbing one of your bags, so you can change into something comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly a thought occurs to you as you strip your clothes. “We don’t have to do anything.” You finish undressing, folding your clothes and putting them on the chair by the door, and walking in the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s back is turned to the door and his outlines are clear through the shower box, fogging up. He turns to grab a body wash from the shelf, noticing you by the door. “Hey…” his confusion is quickly replaced with curiosity as he sees your bare skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without saying anything, he slides the door with an inviting gaze. You climb in, and immediately put your hair on an updo, avoiding getting it damp, and proceed to drizzle the liquid soap on your palm, now rubbing it against your skin. Carl does the same, washing his upper arms and chest, himself but can’t help looking at you. His gaze follows your hands going in circular motions, making the citric scent of the liquid soap emanate from where you stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves a little closer, catching the sweet, acidic smell from your surroundings, a satisfied smile growing on his lips. “It’s a different scent with you here. It’s way nicer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile, but don’t respond verbally, keeping your hands occupied on your own body, now moving on to your shoulders. Carl finishes before you, but stays, from time to time, grinning as he looks at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to wash your back?” he asks, grabbing a loofah. You nod, shooting him a warm look, turning to face the wall, letting him work the rough sponge on your skin. He delicately spreads the foamy solution, with both hands, on your shoulder blades, spreading it across the rest of your spine. “Hope it’s not too cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect…” you trail off, feeling as the lumpy sponge exfoliates your back, relaxing you even more. He places one of his hands on your arm, to control his motions with the other. After rinsing the product under the water, you massage your own neck, feeling a couple of knots on your muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl gently take your hands off yourself, picking up the rubbing motions, melting away the tension as he does. You’re very aware of his lips, close to your neck, his breath tickles your ear and you feel goosebumps, involuntarily shuddering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs tenderly, his arms going around your waist for a moment, a warmth invading the space between your bodies as you smile to yourself, your heart thumping in your chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, you turn your face to see him, now leaning in, brushing his soft lips on yours, sharing a kiss as he turns the tap. The dashing water stops, and the droplets continue to hit the floor as Carl deepens the kiss, gripping one side of your head, you both moaning under your breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here…” you pull away, whispering, putting a clean, dry towel between your chests, smiling smugly as you climb out of the shower, followed by him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mean.” He mutters, drying his arms as he watches you wrap yourself in your own fluffy towel, now heading to the bedroom. The light breeze from the window makes you sigh, relaxed. There’s a calm atmosphere in the room, and you feel renovated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dry, you both sit on the bed, preparing to lie down and get some sleep, but now, you don’t feel so tired. As if reading your thoughts, Carl gives you a timid smile, looking at your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a great shower.” His calm voice makes you smile, biting your inner lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah. In fact, our first shower together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods slowly, leaning over, a gleam in his eyes as he gets closer, his mouth mere inches from yours. you don’t wait for him, capturing his lips in another kiss, bringing his body closer, to feel his warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s kisses were always somewhat shy, but as soon as you were alone, he would shift into a much more comfortable, controlled person. His hands would move on the sides of your body, firing up your senses along with his tongue, as it massaged yours in a languid kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…” you call his name in a soft voice, feeling his mouth explore your collarbone, nipping its way to your neck. Your hands, guiding his head to stay on your neck, would fall on his muscular arms, feeling them contract, under your touch, with excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…” his voice is low, close to your throat, as he grips your jawline to leave a trail of kisses. You catch the scent of orange and clove, coming from his hair, taking a deep breath as his hands move to your knees. “Is this ok?” he asks, biting your bottom lip, moving to your chin. You nod in response, letting out a moan, controlling his hands to touch your thighs. He slides up and down, playing with your senses, his fingertips feathering your skin, your hairs standing on end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your nails rank the sides of his stomach as you pull him on top of you, hugging his waist with your legs. He shoots you a surprised look, along with a smile, as you clutch his head to stare into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl opens his mouth but can’t speak, the feeling of your tongue swiping on his lips takes his breath away. “I love that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you do…” you bring him closer, tightening the grip of your thighs around him. He hisses with anticipation, moving his mouth to your breasts, delicately touching his tongue on your peaks. He works each side, slowly, feeling your hips meeting his. “Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You move his hips by its sides, letting him sink into you, gasping as you feel his skin on yours. a grunt escapes his lips, and he tosses his head back for a moment, trying to contain his voice. “Don’t hold back…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his stomach on yours, burying his face on your hair, spread on the pillow. You hear his low groans as he thrust his hips, flexing his knees so he can go deeper in you, his breathing heavy and near your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel waves of pleasure crashing, slowly building under your waistline, teasing a moan from your lips. Carl rolls his hips slower, savoring every stroke, gently biting your shoulder. He murmurs under his moans, his hair falling on his brow, but his eyes still peeking through the dark strands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands travel to the sides of your body, one digging your thigh, the other staying close to your hair as his forearm frames your head. Your voice drops its volume, only coming out as whispers as you plead, moving in sync, arching your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…” his voice resonates in the room as he props himself on his hands, hissing your name, his stomach muscles flexing with his motions as he kneels on the bed, holding your legs against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure increases and your body shivers under his, making you slide your hands on his torso as he moves back and forth, a sore feeling growing in intensity as he does. He watches you, adoringly, writhe under his moves, clasping the bedsheet, pleading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth hangs open as you prop on your elbows, elevating your hips to gyrate against his, undulating your waist. You toss your head back, your hair cascading on the bed, catching his eye to your moans, now growing in volume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bends over you, your foreheads touching as you rock your bodies together, as one. Carl’s voice weakens as you whisper in his ear. “Faster, babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obeys without second thought, nuzzling in your neck to leave lingering bites on your shoulder. You feel the tension building under his strokes. He smiles, his lips hovering yours, his grunts throaty and intense as Carl shuts his eyes, trying to control himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hold back, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m…” he pauses his sentence, taking a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too…” your tongue swipes his lips, teasing a grin from him. “Don’t hold back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets go of control, groaning loudly, holding on to your leg as he thrusts deeper, the crests crashing as the soreness grows, a delicious jolt of energy rippling through your skin, feeling his breath so close to your collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel him twitching inside of you, your skin drenched as you melt together, hearts beating fast, breathless moans calling each other’s names.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension on your chests dissipate as you tumble into bliss, together, his face on the crook of your neck and yours on his. He slows down his rhythm, still trembling over you, your body shuddering with a hint of your ecstasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops, now grazing his thumb on your temple, scooping your head to the side, to see your eyes, beaming at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” A breathless Carl lies on your side with a hint of insecurity in his voice. “Did you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I did.” You answer with a satisfied smile as his arms bring you closer, to lie on his chest. “It was so… different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Different?!” his tone of voice comes out startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… we’re not in a Villa, surrounded by cameras anymore. It’s bound to be different, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… right. That’s what you meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s what I meant.” You look up to see Car sighing with relief. “Wat did you think it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head with an awkward chuckle. “I thought you… I thought you meant us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, if anything, it only gets better and better every time.” You caress his cheek with your palm, feeling a slight change of temperature. It reaches a deep tone of red as he smiles back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad that’s the case…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what about you, babe?” you ask in a discreet voice. “Did you… enjoy it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhales sharply from his mouth, raising his brows with a grin. “Just… wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, you embrace each other, pulling the covers. It doesn’t take long for your soft snoring to lure a laugh from him as he rests his head on the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep tight… babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Painful exit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>For the time being, it's best if you leave him by himself.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>From the moment you and Carl stepped out of the Villa, as the winning couple, you’ve been together as boyfriend and girlfriend in a committed relationship. However, life by his side is not exactly what you thought it was gonna be. It’s a rare occasion to have a date, or even a tranquil dinner at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has been occupied, day and night, for days now, and barely stays at his house. When he does, he’s in his office, working hard, solving problems by himself. Between a million tasks for his company, meetings with potential clients, or software issues he insists on taking care of, there’s not a lot of time left for you and him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the show, business, not only for Carl, but you as well, has spiked. However, you manage to find time to stay with him. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been a two-way street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he took you to his office, you remember a vague moment of epiphany about what his work is really about, but Carl doesn’t have only one role in his company. He insists on taking several problems at once, to manage them in his own way. Sometimes you catch yourself lost in the conversation, when he explains to you what he’s currently working on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not about your lack of understanding technology, it’s Carl’s way of rambling and losing himself in the middle of the explanation, because he cannot focus on your chat. There were a couple of times where he picked up the phone in the middle of your talk, and stayed over three hours in his office, guiding a technical issue to be resolved through the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he took you on a tour in his company, it was so hasty, you couldn’t even remember where the break room was. He was rushed by a couple of managers, of different accounts, to go back to the meeting room and solve system issues they were having that week. You ended up in his office, for hours, before deciding to leave and call him later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that when he picked up, he was still in working mode. “I gotta go, but I’ll call you in… say… half an hour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure… that works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You responded with a deflated tone to your voice, but he didn’t notice. Especially because he called you, but it took him twelve hours to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the days you have off, from your own work, you usually find yourself watching tv in the bedroom, or even at your place, because somehow, he came back with multiple devices to take care of something he couldn’t handle at the firm. And when not, it’s a stand-by status.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter if it’s a movie, or a tv show, you catch Carl staring at his watch or the clock above the door, at all times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First time you decided you wanted to have a “Star Trek” marathon, he was up for it, but it didn’t last long. He received an emergency call about a certain social media platform that was crashing and needed repair, as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna come with me? I promise, it’s not gonna take long!” That day, he requested a car for you, and only came back to his house a couple of days later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was your routine for the past few weeks. You would come home from work, and cook, in hopes it would calm yourself, and to feed him, since Carl would miss eating hours every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before leaving the show, Carl even mentioned you should move in together, and even though you have been dropping hints about it, the conversation hasn’t happened yet, on the outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not after that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed exciting to start a new life with a new person, but as time is going by, your relationship with him grows colder every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As many times before, you finish making dinner and head to his office, down the hallway. With a light knock on the door, you call his name, but there’s no response. Opening just a little, you peak through the crack, to see his head resting on the desk, his laptop open, right next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tiptoe to his chair, delicately running your hands on his back to wake him up. He jumps, startled, looking at his surroundings with urgency. As he sees you, his voice and breathing go back to normal and he scratches the back of his neck, smiling with embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry if I scared you, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s alright. I was just resting my eyes for a bit.” He grabs your wrist, raising it to his lips to kiss the back of your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to eat something. You can continue your work later.” You nod to the door, pulling him from the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… no… ok. Let’s eat. I’m actually starving…” his brows furrow, and his lips twist as he senses the smell of the food. “Hm… it smells amazing. Babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingers lace with his, and you lead him to the kitchen, pulling a chair for him. As you both take a seat, he pulls the plates closer. His eyes are still lost with drowsiness, but he manages to grab the fork and start eating. The bags under his eyes are even more visible, a much deeper tone than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you watch him eat, slowly chewing his food, you start to think about how you see each other once a week, and when you do, he locks himself in his home office. From time to time, you can hear his voice, rampantly talking to someone who probably made a huge mistake and now he has to fix it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though you’ve heard it, you’ve never seen Carl so altered, to the point of yelling, but still, his voice is ferocious when it comes to business. Lost in thought, you now realize the fork falling from his grip and his head hanging. You push his plate further, nudging him, lightly, to wake him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m up!” he jumps, startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe. Go take a nap… please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m ok. I’m eating…” he trails off, looking for his plate and utensil. “Where’s my plate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, babe… you need to sleep.” You gently touch his shoulder, trying to get him to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine… I am…” he gestures with both hands. “… fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even see me take your plate. You’re tired and need to rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops for a moment, rubbing his eyes, trying to stay awake. Moving towards the sink, Carl opens a cabinet above the window. “I need coffee, that’s what I need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, please.” You gesture to the clock above the entrance door. “It’s past ten. You need to rest before going back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice bolts from his chest. “I can’t!” He rummages through the drawers, looking for something, then scratches his forehead, placing one hand on the counter. Taking a deep breath, he purses his lips with a sigh. “I’m sorry… I just… I need to finish that! It’s a lot to handle, and I’m the only one who can do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stay silent, looking at your plate, not moving, luring his gaze. He notices your discomfort and seats next to you, trying to form a sentence. “I’m… I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. Go back to your office.” You get up, putting both plates in the sink, then heading to his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows you with an apologetic tone to his tired voice. “Look… babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to explain yourself, Carl.” You stop mid pace, raising your hands. “You really don’t. You wanna continue working, because you have to, then go ahead. I’m not gonna stop you. It didn’t have any effect then, it’s not gonna have an effect now.” Stepping in the room, you grab your bag to change clothes. His hand reaches yours, but you shrug it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard enough having deadlines from the clients! But you have to understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do understand! That’s what I’m saying! Go back to your office and finish your work!” your voice comes out exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t sound like you understand!” he watches as you change, violently tossing the clothes on the ground, then moving to the bathroom. He stays behind, arms folded on his chest. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend. You could be a little more supportive!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop putting the toothpaste on your brush to stare at him, through the mirror. “A little more supportive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! It sounds like you want me to drop everything just to spend time with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn to him, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes as you do. “Just to spend time with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s how you feel, Carl, maybe I should go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If me being here whenever you need me is not helping you, then there’s nothing I can actually do for you. I might as well leave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should leave!” he throws his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I that useless to you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself, avoiding your eyes. An invisible hand punches your chest, causing angry tears to roll on your cheeks. You put a closed fist on your lips as you nod. “Right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, you recompose, grabbing your bag and shoes, walking hastily to the living room, putting your shoes on the way, one at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You reach for the door, but Carl catches up, stopping the door from opening, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stay quiet for a moment, wondering what it’s gonna be the excuse this time. What is he gonna say to stop you from leaving? A long moment of you avoiding his eyes, and his gaze searching for yours, you give up on your plan to listen, and decide to speak first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… I just wanna take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m an adult!” he pats his own chest, weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then act like one!!” your shout makes his eyes go wide. “You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t take breaks! It’s always the office and home office! You don’t do anything but work! You need to rest Carl! Even if it’s just a nap…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to nap! I’m fine!” he cuts you short, gesturing to himself. “I’m fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… you’re fine... hence, you don’t need me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, his eyes fixated on your face. “I never said that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to! The bags under your eyes say it for you!!” You open the door, still hoping he will come up with comforting words, to make you stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I…” his voice cracks, he visibly struggles to formulate a phrase, nipping on his fingertips, nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t say anything that would make you stay. Because the only thing that would stop you from leaving is if he agreed on taking things slow at work, and he can’t do that. He simply can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gaze stays on him, expectant, but he freezes, eyes lost as they stay on yours. no opening of mouth or gesturing of any kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the corner of your eye, you see bloody bites on his fingers and shake your head, defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slams behind you, causing him to startle as it hits the doorframe.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A tough conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>- This chapter is entirely seen from Carl's perspective -</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>You stand there for a while, staring at the door, frozen. Her car driving away is not only audible from where you stand, but also painful to hear. You don’t know what to do and all you can think of, right now, it’s to open the door and shout how much you want her to stay. But you can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand reaches for the knob, multiple times, but when you’re able to open it, you smack it, angrily. There’s nothing you can do right now. It’s better to give her some space. Besides, you have to finish your work, and your watch marks the time. 10:46 pm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still have a lot to do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going to the kitchen, you see the two plates in the sink, reminding you how hungry you are, and a general sadness closes your throat, along with the hunger. You go through the fridge, but there’s nothing to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takeout it is”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your phone already has a list of favorites, since, for the last few weeks, this has been your every meal, no matter what time of the day is. As you unlock the screen of your phone, your wallpaper judges you, harshly. It’s a picture of you and her, the day you came home, from the Villa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hazy and confusing how you guys went from happy to whatever you are, right now. “Why is she so angry? I need to finish this! It’s work!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You think about the first time you saw her in Casa Amor. She was so beautiful, so well put-together, you were immediately hooked by, not only her looks, but her personality as well. There was no chance you wouldn’t try to get her. She was too precious to not go for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard working, reliable, organized.” She said pensive, but smiling as you asked her to describe herself, on the Speed Dating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s perfect…” you thought to yourself, shifting on your seat, visibly more interested in her than in anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a good balance.” Also, an intriguing answer, especially for you. It has been one of the hardest tasks in your life, to balance your personal matters and your business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at first, when you came back, you thought it would be easier to learn from her, but you couldn’t. You’ve been working hard to make your company skyrocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t stop now!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slide to the next photo, seeing the first one you took, on the first night in Casa Amor, when she asked you to share a bed. How lucky you felt at that moment, when she came out from the dressing room, looking perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent coming from her hair, probably just her shampoo, got you inebriated. She sat with you, before having a long conversation about your day and how amazing it was that you two met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt something different. Something unique. Not at all common to you, especially with a girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From that day on, you had to do everything you could, to make her happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night after you won the Villa x Villa challenge was one of the greatest nights of your life. Not only you felt free and had a lot of fun, but somehow, she managed to keep your head there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s difficult to focus once you work as much as you do. She didn’t scowl when hearing about your company or occupation. She was thrilled you were opening up to her, and that’s when you decided to actually give her a proper chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was rare that you felt so comfortable with someone, and after a few days, you didn’t even have to try or pretend you were having fun. Because you were. She did that. She got you to relax and enjoy the summer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your apprehensive persona seemed to be gone, once you got together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, the game wasn’t about winning. It was about leaving with her, which for you, it was the real prize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did you get from that to what is happening right now? When did things get so hard that she just left?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slump on the couch, going through some pictures you took together in the Villa. “Argh, the Baby Challenge, that was terrible… although… she won that one for us…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You go through the roll, reaching its end, to find the first pic you took together, ever. You and her, on the coping, in Casa Amor, and it brings even more memories. The challenge, when you kissed for thirty seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It got a little awkward, but you still felt something different. Even if it was just a challenge, something made your heart thump that moment. A little adrenaline that you hadn’t felt in so long, and would make you smile, whenever you saw her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hairs stand on end every time you think about that moment, and you have to rub your arms and legs, to put them in place. It’s still hard not to smile, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has that effect on you. Anytime you remember the things you went through together, good or bad, you have a feeling of… “What’s the word I’m looking for?” you keep snapping your fingers, looking for the perfect description, but it’s not coming to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>((Carl, I think it’s security, but I’ll let you squirm a little bit on this one.))</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The living room seems like a good place to sulk, just like any other, and you decided to stay on the couch, feeling completely defeated, letting your head hang on the backrest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More and more recollections start flooding your mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time you met her friends in the Villa, for instance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were so nervous and knew how important it was for them to like you. If they didn’t, that would make everything way more difficult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling you had when she said your name, switching to you. You were insecure about her choice, but there were so many butterflies in your stomach, you almost couldn’t contain yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That first night, you were scared that she chose you just to be safe in the game. It took you some time to realize that she liked you for real. After all, it’s rare that a girl likes you, at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was weird to see a girl like her interested in a guy like you. But not only does she respect your tastes and quirks, she actually likes them. She’s supportive of your preferences and she loves your enthusiasm when you talk about the things you appreciate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Star Trek. She might not be as passionate about it, as you are, but she never said a bad thing. She endures your discussions and even dips her toes in theories. Anytime you start talking about the plots, the characters, the series, or even the old productions, she smiles and listens to you. No other girlfriend ever stuck around like she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had girlfriends leaving because of your obsession about small things, or the shows you like, or the way you live your life. You love your work and you’re proud of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unfair! There’s no problem in loving what you do… right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You keep gazing at the wall in front of the couch, as if it could answer your question. Going through your phone, you decide to text her, but you’re surprised at the number of texts from her that you didn’t even see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was probably at work, no big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then you notice a lot of voice messages as well, also, no responses from you. You keep scrolling, to see older messages and every day, there’s at least “good morning” and “good night” from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more you scroll, the more unanswered messages you see. That starts to get depressing and it’s time to go back to work, anyway. You’re still hungry, but you don’t wanna go through your screensaver again. Right now, it’s painful, and you could do without the sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s already hard having to work late at night, and the sorrow won’t help anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At your office, on your chair, work is waiting for you and as you take a seat, cracking your knuckles, your phone’s screen lights up. Deep down, a feeling of hope surges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s her…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no. Chelsea’s name appears on the screen, with a picture, one of your favorites, where you and she were wearing her heart-shaped sunglasses, back in the Villa. Taking a deep breath, you answer it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl! Hi!” her perky voice usually sets off a better mood, but not even that, is working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chelsea. Hey. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m great! And you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ok…” your voice cracks a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, oh. What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is wrong.” you fiddle with a pen from your desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Riiight… you’re a terrible liar, you know that?” her tone becomes a little more serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just… tired. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the fact that I’m trying to call your girlfriend and she’s not picking it up has nothing to do with it?” she’s probably crossing her arms right now, you just know she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to reach her but is going straight to voicemail. So, I thought, maybe her phone is charging. I should try Carl. But your voice is so… unsettled...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is!!” she speaks with such a firmness, you would think it’s Priya talking. “I know these things, hun! Tell me what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is wrong!” you throw your arms, impatiently, now biting your fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Denying is not gonna make the issue go away, babes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no denying. I’m fine. She’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s talking about her? Why are you getting so defensive? Why are you jumping on the word “issue”?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chelsea, stop! Don’t analyze me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either you tell me what’s going on, or I’m coming over!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You live an hour away!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I have a car, hun! It’s your choice…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lower your finger from your teeth, taking a deep breath. It’s hard to explain what’s happening, once you don’t even know what the problem is. Trying to find the right words, you hesitate at least twice, but finally start trying to explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just that… ok. We had this sort of “accident” at the office. I’m gonna spare you the details and go straight to the part that is related to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please do. I wouldn’t remember a single detail from the start of your sentence, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I’ve been working at home, to try and fix the problem. It’s something that only two people in my company can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… so you’ve been working hard. I know she must appreciate that. She loves your dedication.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem! She doesn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Chelsea’s voice is more confused every time you explain something to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She and I got into a fight tonight because she thinks I’m working too much! It’s so unfair!” you throw a pen in the pen holder, frustrated, restarting the nipping of your fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see… let me ask you something, hun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” You shrug. Nothing she says it’s gonna make any sense to you, so why not indulge?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you in your home office right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look around, from one side to the other, lips perched. “Well, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. What did you do today? Besides working?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You perk up, tapping your bruised fingertips on your desktop. “Oh, I wrote a different code today, for a new company we’re trying to get a contract! It’s so interesting! They work with…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey! Focus.” Chelsea snaps her fingers, as if you would be able to see them. “I asked what you did today, apart from work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You go through your morning routine in your head and start narrating it to Chelsea. “I woke up, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and came to my office to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what, what?” you furrow your brows</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what?” she repeats it, a little impatient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what, what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking “then what”?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean then what, Chels?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “Ok, we’re not going anywhere with this! You went to your home office to work, in the morning… what did you do… after that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I stayed working, Chelsea, what else?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… so…” she trails off. “Wait, what time did you wake up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice gains a casual undertone as you shrug. “Around 5 am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’ve been working for…” It takes her a while, murmuring numbers, losing track every time she’s about to finish the math. “Erm… it took you, ahm… well, a lot of hours! And you’re still working?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. It’s not like I can stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Riiight... let me ask you something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The other person… from your office. Where are they, right now?” you hear footsteps on her side of the line, so she’s probably pacing her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since it’s Saturday, they’re probably home… or… I don’t know! It’s not like I keep track of my employees on the weekends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, if the problem you have in the company is so serious, why are you the only one tackling it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your mouth to answer but stop yourself from speaking. You need to measure your words, because Chelsea is a clever girl, and she will use things against you. “Because I’m the owner. I have to solve the problem. It has to be me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why do you pay this other person?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they work from 9 to 5, Monday through Friday!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you work… ahm, more than… 12 hours a day, every day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course! Way more! Sometimes…” you chuckle. “I don’t even sleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course you don’t…” she snaps her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Another dumb question, Carl. What was the last thing you ate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner. She cooked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you ate dinner with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pause before answering. “Well, not exactly…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was mad and stormed out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She stormed out. Why? What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because I fell asleep!” you throw your arms with frustration. “She must understand I’m a little tired right? I’ve been working for 17 hours straight! It’s normal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did she do? You know, before storming out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You try to go through that moment. “She told me to get some sleep… but you understand that I can’t, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… sure. But just in case I get this wrong, why can’t you… sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…I have to fix this! This is a big problem!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that already… talking about it with more fury it’s not gonna make your point sink in, sweetheart!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… well. She’s angry, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very angry!” you remember when she looked at you, through the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know why? Did she say why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You try to remember her exact words. “Because she cooked, and I fell asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she say that, specifically…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I’m paraphrasing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea snaps her finger again. “Her exact words, Carl! It’s important… focus, god damnit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your conversation starts playing in your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m an adult!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then act like one! You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t take breaks! It’s always the office and home office! You don’t do anything but work! You need to rest Carl! Even if it’s just a nap…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to nap! I’m fine…! I’m fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… you’re fine... hence, you don’t need me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to! The bags under your eyes say it for you!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tell Chelsea, almost word by word, already feeling a defeat coming, due to her silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” her voice gets analytical. “Basically, she’s trying to get you to sleep and you’re refusing, like a little bitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point of the story!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it is the reason why she left! She told you word by word the reason why she stormed out! Gallagher, pay attention!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But don’t you think it’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I think?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone is scary enough for you to take your phone off your ear for a moment. “I’m under the impression you’re gonna tell me, no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bet your pale ass I will!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoff. “Oh, then please, do! Lay it on me… everyone seems to have their kicks by doing it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, boo freaking hoo! Little Carl has a girlfriend that cares! Now shush, because this is important!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at the phone, not believing in her level of anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ The thing is, Carl, you’re afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afraid…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Afraid. It’s so clear and so simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are! Shut up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I afraid of, then?” you’re confused, but the challenging tone in your voice spikes Chelsea’s volume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is something you need to figure it out on your own! Why are you pushing her away like that? Why is work more important to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I’m not pushing her aw…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is she again?” she cuts you off with an acid voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a moment to shut yourself up, for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Point is… she is there for you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why aren’t you there for her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because my work…” you start explaining, but she cuts you off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shush! Answer the question internally. Think of your answers, don’t say them out loud!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, sorry. That wasn’t clear…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re learning, it’s fine! If the problem is that she feels useless, what do you have to do to fix it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… she has to… I have… I…” you stammer, trying to find the right words,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make her feel useful, Carl!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how?” you gesture to the phone, as if Chelsea could see your desperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is also something you should find the answer to, on your own!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?! I have no idea wat you’re talking about!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea stays quiet for a minute before answering you. “You have to make sure you have your priorities straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My priorities?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. What is more important to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” you pause, staring at your work phone and then, at a portrait of her, on your desk, wistfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be afraid to answer. You need to realize what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now, it’s my work…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you talking to me about her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you… because I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you miss her? Because you know you’re wrong, but don’t want to admit it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You think for a moment, your chest tightening as a tear tickles the corner of your eye. “I do… miss her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, now that you know you miss her, and also know that your work right now is your priority, what do you think you should do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… should…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes get lost in an answer that you don’t have. In your head, the answer it’s right there, ready to reach, but somehow, you can’t seem to grab it. With a sigh, you bite your fingertip, with a sorrowful voice. “I should finish this, Chelsea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. But it was good talking to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hang up the phone and turn it off. You have work to do, and you’re the only one that can do it.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Division</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the fight, and the stormy silence between you, Chelsea decided to drop by, to check on you. In return, what better than going to the grocery store and buying her favorite bottle of Prosecco?<br/>Funny how the store is crowded today.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The end of the week is approaching, and that only means one thing on your head. Another weekend you’ll be free from work, and without Carl to get to your nerves. It’s been five days since your fight with him, and even though you were checking your phone excessively, in hopes to find a notification from either his work phone, or home phone, or emergency phone, you had to give up after a couple of days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that hard to understand? I just want him to rest, or eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chime of an incoming call warns you and you rush to pick it up. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hun! Hi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey, Chels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, please, don’t be too excited to talk to me, babes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh, defeated. “I’m sorry… it’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! That… b-boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. So, listen. I’m throwing a party next Saturday. Do you think you can come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrow your brows on the lack of interest from Chelsea. After all, she’s your best bra, and is always doing everything she can to help. Apparently, not today. “Erm… a party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yaaas! Everyone is coming! Lottie is gonna be here for a festival, and Priya has the days off. Besides, all the boys are coming too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great.” You couldn’t sound more deflated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can sense how excited you are!” she pauses, expecting an answer from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry… I am! It’s just hard to think about having fun right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me what’s bugging you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lay the situation down, explaining to her your point of view. “And then I left!” you throw an arm as if Chelsea was right there to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hun. I’m sorry… but look. He might be a little…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupid? Stubborn? Addicted to work? Stubborn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said stubborn already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m making a point here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… I was gonna say “not the best at understanding people”.” her voice is a little weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath, then speaks before exhaling, now choking on her own sigh. “I’m coming over!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… Chelsea! You’re over 40 miles from here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” you can hear her hand slapping her own thigh. “And my bra needs me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” She hangs up before you say anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of having Chelsea in your house, at this moment is more reassuring that you thought it would be. It’s a delicate situation, and no one can make you feel better like she does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I should go to the store. There’s no way I’m not getting her Prosecco...” You get your keys and credit card from the console table, and it’s a cold day, so you grab a jacket as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky is grey and very moody, the clouds are chalky, ready to crash. A light fall drizzle dashes on you as you walk to your car, in front of your apartment building. You hop in, checking your gas level and turn the key. Your head is all over the place and it’s hard to focus on anything that isn’t you and Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slap the wheel with both hands, with frustration, feeling your cheeks peeking red. “What a stubborn ass!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car drives itself, almost in auto pilot, and you didn’t even realize you were already in front of the store, parking. You’ve been doing everything in auto pilot lately, and as much as you hate it, you can’t help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wine section is the first one you drop by, a hamper in hand. As your eyes roam on the labels, searching for Chelsea’s favorite, your nose catches a sweet, citric smell in the air. Lemon and Cedar. The combination is lovely, and you can’t help but sniff a little more. “Oh, I love that smell…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re confused on why the alcohol section smells like Sport cologne, but shrug it off, approaching the prosecco shelves, eyeing your options. As your hand reaches for the white label, you feel a presence approaching, but you ignore it. After all, it’s the alcohol section. Bound to have more than one customer at all times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” A rough, low voice, coming from a tall figure, talks directly to you. Your eyes travel from the shoes to the face, going over the jeans and the heavy jacket, to see a kind smile, accompanied by sweet eyes as they stare at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah?!” you get up from your crouching position. “Oh my god! What are you doing in the middle of civilization?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his arms to give you a friendly hug. “Wow, are you shaming me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but… yes, yes, I am!” you can feel his laughter vibrating on his chest while he holds you tightly. As you pull away, you shoot him a curious look, but smile smugly. “So, what brings you here, to the adults table?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har… I forgot how funny you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never make that mistake again!” you pick up your basket from the floor and you two start walking together, down the alcohol aisle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am here to see Hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Of course! I forget that she lives here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He doesn’t seem too amused. “So, where’s Carl? How is he?” Noah glances at you, from the corner of his eyes, reading a label.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel uncomfortable with the question, because you have no idea how to answer it. “He’s been… working hard…” you didn’t lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he goes through a few bottles, checking the labels. “And you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… working hard doesn’t exactly describe my life right now. My occupation is tranquil this time of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” he smiles softly. “So, prosecco section. Is Chelsea coming?” he chuckles under his breath, picking up a dark green bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact, yes… she’s coming to visit me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures. You look a little down, and you’re searching for Prosecco, so… yeah.” He pauses, putting an expensive looking bottle back on the shelf, carefully. “Is everything ok with you?” his eyes are expectant as he tilts his head with a kind tone to his voice. The type of kindness that only Noah knows how to display.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t know if you should lay down the whole situation and spill the tea right there, in the middle of the wine section, or just brush it off and pretend everything is ok. It’s been killing you not talking about it, but on the other hand, Chelsea is coming to see you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… are you okay?” his suave voice snaps you out of your trance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been quiet for a while...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… sorry.” You shake your head, deciding on the “brushing off” option. “No, everything is great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Say that one more time and I’ll believe you.” Noah raises his thick brows with a solidary look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The tilt… the look. Just… don’t…” you turn to pick up Chelsea’s favorite, avoiding his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanna help…” he follows you, shrugging innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t pity me. It’s nothing… really. I’m good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at him and he can feel the annoyance pouring out of your being. “Ok. Sorry. So, why is Chelsea coming? She only leaves Buckinghamshire for emergencies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an emergency… a prosecco one!” you raise a second bottle, putting it in your basket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” he leans down, whispering. “So, you’re not ready to talk about it. It’s cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Shush…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You push him, playfully, with a chuckle, now walking down to the bread section.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Groceries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>- A chapter from Carl's perspective - </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just need to pick up some wine, and you go there. You apologize. Everything is gonna be fine!” You tell yourself, walking into the store, checking your list. “Cheese, bread, wine, sparkling water, chicken breast, olive oil and soy sauce.” You nod along the aisles, going through the sections to find your favorite brands, putting them in the basket. “What wine should I get? She loves red…maybe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After sliding your finger on a couple of labels, trying to recognize her favorite, you see a white horse, picking up the wine, to check. “That’s the one… at least this one was easy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bread section is next, and a couple of aisles ahead. “What’s that?” You look at one of the displays, a light golden Italian loaf catches your eye. “That’s her favorite too... one last thing to pick. What’s next?” You grab the crumpled list from your pocket, eyeing the following items, distracted by your errand. “Cheese? A nice gouda maybe? She likes provolone… maybe I should ask…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, her perfume catches your nose. “w-what…?” you turn to see a blur of clothes passing at the end of the aisle. It’s her. your heart beats so fast, with joy. You don’t even remember what you’re parked in your spot for, but then, a bigger, much taller blur passes by and joins her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, your heart pounds, giving you the sensation of a chill running down your stomach. You freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s chuckling, carrying a basket. As the tall blur walks side by side with her, he says something so funny, she tips her head back, crying laughing. You can only make a few words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way! You’re lying!” her voice cracks, trying to catch her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear! He did! He dropped it and it hit Bobby in the face!” Noah continues to tell her the story, now closer, shielding her from your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I wasn’t there to see it! I didn’t even know Bobby was in town…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s staying with Gary… he didn’t call you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he didn’t. Last time we spoke was at the after party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts his giant hand on her shoulder and whispers something, close to her ear and she nods, knowingly. You feel your face warming up, and you realize, you’re still frozen in place, but your hands grip the basket a little too hard. So hard, your bruised fingertips start hurting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can see them in slow motion, talking, whispering, having the best time! She turns to face Noah, with a tender look, laughing. Your hand trembles with angry energy and the basket falls from your grip, hitting the floor, catching her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to check the source of the noise, and you duck, behind a display of grated parmesan, but it’s in vain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl?” she slightly tilts her torso to check if it’s you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey!” you wave awkwardly, the stiffest you’ve ever felt yourself, now straightening your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi… what are you doing here? On a Thursday?” she checks her watch, approaching you. “At 2 pm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… I was just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her focus falls on your groceries, in your carrier. “Up to something special, I see…” her voice gains a sad tone as she notices the items in your basket, roaming mostly on the wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same thing.” you nod to Noah, standing a few feet from you, his back turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel a tickle on the back of your throat and can’t help but blurt out your words. “He’s far from Romford just to shop, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face twists in anger, but she doesn’t raise her voice, instead, enunciating every word in her sentence. “Not just to shop. Hope lives here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realization hits you hard. Hope does live in London. Your eyes go wide, and you stutter, still stiff in place, now embarrassed, listening to an even angrier tone come out of her. “What were you implying, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh… I just… I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mouth betrays you and you stammer, nervously. Your blood rushes through your veins, and you feel your heartbeat on your fingertips, freezing again. As much as you try to make sense with words or to give her an explanation, you can’t. She waits for an answer, impatiently staring at you, but you can’t speak. You don’t know what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every thought that floods your mind would only set the conversation on fire. It’s better to stay quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A familiar, squeal echoes through the air, cutting the tension hovering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my gosh! A reunion at the grocery store!” Chelsea walks in, linking arms with Hope, who waves, awkwardly, moving to stand next to Noah. Not before she glares at your girlfriend, silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look down, to see Chelsea with her hand extended, waiting for a handshake, right next to you, and you didn’t even see her approaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like she’s breaking you from a trance, and you immediately shake your head, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The awkwardness in the moment makes your friend join the others, leading them further into the aisle. Your girl’s head cocks from the three of them, to you, still waiting for an answer. Your silence brings her a tone of sadness on her expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… we’re done here, I guess…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks away, joining the group at the register, out of earshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When your voice comes out, it’s too late for her to hear you. You just stand there, not knowing what to do, feeling a little lost and speechless, watching her walk away. Once more, she walks away, and you couldn’t say anything to stop her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a whim, or a reflex, you grab your phone from your pocket, looking at Chelsea’s last message on your screen. Immediately, you rush to join them, by the register line, basket in hand. “Hey, Chels… I… I’d love to go to your party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” she shoots you an expectant look. “That’s great, hun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” you then turn to your girlfriend, optimism sneaking through your tone of voice. “A-are you going too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stutters. “Y-Yes, of course. Chelsea is my best friend... I wouldn’t miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes fall on your shoes and your shoulders slump, deflated. Chelsea’s gaze travels from her to you and she gives you a cheeky wink. “Say… Carl… what you meant was to ask if she’s going alone?” she then takes a couple of steps away from you, giving you two some space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. This… this is what I meant. I want us… t-to go… together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises her brows with a surprised look. “Oh… I thought you would have work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On Saturday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On “ever” more likely… you just… seem to always have something…” she chuckles awkwardly under her breath, avoiding your gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… I’m sure I can fig… I guess…” you trail off, muttering. “I guess I do have work to do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you do. It’s ok. Really. You don’t have to go. I can go by myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… really? Because I can go, if you want me to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s not necessary.” She raises a hand. “I’m sure you have a lot on your plate right now. It’s fine.” wincing on her feet, with an expectant look, she tips her head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t know how to answer, or even to breath, for that matter. Suddenly, it’s hard to control heart flushing and the cold hands, to the point of freezing in place again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I should go. Chelsea is here for me, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! Yeah… she’s here… ok. Erm… I’ll… call you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns on her heel, responding over her shoulder. “When you have the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little too late, you wave, but she doesn’t see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes her place in line, joining Chelsea and the others, a sad smile on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, you walk to the next aisle, your basket going on the floor as you try to slip out of the store, unnoticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopping in your car, you turn the key and drive home. There’s a surge of sadness coursing through you. It’s hard not to feel defeated. Everything seemed to be going ok, and then, it just… wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands either run on your hair or rub your eyes and temples. At times, slapping your forehead, frustration being the only feeling pouring out of you, besides anger. You take your rage on your fingers, one by one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time you arrive at your house, you punch your wheel, over and over again. You’re not angry at her, you’re angry at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You have to grip your chest to try and prevent that knot in your throat. You keep it inside, at all times, avoiding the sense of realization, and that is not changing today. You know you want to go back, and tell her how much you love her, and how much you need her right now, but you can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, you can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts to pick up your house keys, your fingertips bloodier than never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes move fast as you walk to your door, fumbling with your pockets, leaving small crimson stains on the fabric of your pants. Your shirt has your fingerprints as well, all over the chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The need of burying yourself in work grows violently inside of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slams behind you as you walk straight into your office, turning on every device on your desk, now pacing the room, impatiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only sounds in your house are the ones coming from your phone and laptop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until someone rings the doorbell.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Realization</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Going back to your point of view, you have Chelsea to talk it out, and try to make sense of things, as hard and confusing as that sounds.<br/>You now know what to do.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Now you understand?” you look at Chelsea, while walking towards your car, in front of the store.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… that was… brutal.” she stops, placing a hand on your forearm. “We’ll talk about it when we get to your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. See you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks away, getting to her car, and Noah approaches, Hope waiting by hers, arms folded on her chest as she puffs, from time to time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” he stands in front of you, quietly wincing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was good seeing you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think everyone can agree.” you nod at Hope when she’s not looking, but you can feel her rolling her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it’s nothing… listen. If you ever need to talk, you have my number. Just… call me. I know I might not be so close, but we’re mates. I don’t want you to go through something without help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” you look down at your feet, fighting back a stubborn tear. “I will. If I need help, I’ll call you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans over, his arms snaking around your back, as he talks in a low, comforting voice. “I’m here for you. You should know that.” He pulls away after a long hug with a kind smile. “We’ll see each other at the party, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye…” He glances once more, before turning on his heel, leaving. Hope waves frostily from a distance, but you just nod in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home seems like the best place right now, so you can’t wait to go. Once in front of your building, you pull up, Chelsea right behind you. She rushes to lock her car door, grabbing a bag from your hands, helping you carry your groceries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In silence, you both step in your living room, taking the massive brown bags to the kitchen. “It’s so cute!” her eyes sparkle. “I expected nothing less from you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” you smile weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get this talk started.” She grabs the bottle and searches for glasses. You nod to the sideboard, in the dining area and she moves to grab them, pouring you both a drink. Chelsea takes a seat on the couch, next to you, patting your leg fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… tell me… how are you feeling right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You narrow your eyes. “What do you call when you’re angry, sad, disappointed and just… generally frustrated? Is there a word?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… I’m not very booky, so I’ll just risk the word… shitty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Shitty!” you snap your fingers. “That’s how I’m feeling!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You share a das chuckle before she straights herself up. “Oh hun… I’m sorry about all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it… I did everything to make him understand what the problem is. I might have to draw for him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t matter. Look. You know him better than I do… but… he’s a very rational person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. But how can such an intelligent guy be so dumb, emotionally?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… he’s too intelligent… if that makes sense.” She shrugs, nodding slowly, sipping on her glass. There’s a long pause, her face crumpling into a pensive expression. When she speaks again, her voice is shy and apprehensive. “I might have talked to him about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? When?” you perch on the couch, drink swirling in the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She narrows her eyes. “Last… Saturday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me?” you go to take a sip, but your mouth swigs the wine, unexpectedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea watches as you gulp all at once, grabbing the bottle to pour you another one. “Because… it wasn’t very productive, I think… I’m not sure. I’m never sure with him. He’s really reserved!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… but he wasn’t that reserved before. I don’t know what changed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea takes a moment, frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s scared?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips twist. “Committing to you, hun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying he’s emotionally unavailable? Because that would be the cherry on top of the pile of shit that has been lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorts, the bubbly drink dripping on her chin, making her bend over to grab some napkins. “Not exactly… it’s… like… ok.” After wiping her chin and cleavage, she takes a deep breath, her voice coming out with resolution. “He has his company, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s in control of everything that happens there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, maybe he’s afraid to commit to you, because he wouldn’t have all the control, and he might get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never hurt him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand gestures to herself and you. “I know that… you know that. He might not… he doesn’t understand how it works! I mean, everything is just… numbers to him! He needs some…” she sighs, not finding the right word, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some… explanation, but in his terms?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! Lay it down in tech jargons!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know tech talk, Chels… besides, I don’t think communication is the problem. He doesn’t comprehend what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has zero skills when it comes to talking about his feelings. It’s like… sometimes it feels like he’s an alien.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s harsh…” she’s taken aback, but a smile grows on the corners of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s true… he says, “I love you”, and I believe in him. But his past relationships were… turbulent. He prioritizes work and doesn’t know how to balance things. Like you said, he has to have everything under control, he doesn’t let go of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… I’m not saying close the company and stop working. I’m saying, “sleep more than two hours” or “eat your food” or “let’s go for a bike ride, because we love it, and you need to relax a little”. Is this too much to ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it is not.” she takes a long sip of her drink, eyeing you curiously over the rim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t know anymore. I love him so much, but I don’t know how to make him comprehend... I mean, he’s not a mach…” you cut yourself short, eyes lost on your carpet. Finally, you have the realization of what you need to do. Without saying anything, you lower your glass, getting up and grabbing your keys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?!” Chelsea gets up, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back! Stay here!” you gesture to the couch, glancing at the wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea cocks her head. “But…” the door slams behind you. “…aaaand she’s gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You run to your car, driving to Carl’s house as fast as you can. A million thoughts rush in, but at least, this time, you have one certainty. Not only he needs to understand or comprehend. You don’t need to show him that you care. He already knows that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You need to show him why he should care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you get there, his car is on the front of the garage gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You breathe at ease, for the first time today, ringing the doorbell, hearing footsteps coming closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opens, revealing a flustered-face Carl, his light blue eyes widen as he sees you. Under the daylight, you notice how deeper his bags are, and how darker they’ve become since your fight. You didn’t pick up at the details at the grocery store. You were so eager to hear from him, you just saw him. Carl. The dweeb you call a boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes roam on his chest and pockets as the little red spots catch your eyes. He immediately covers them, his cheeks flushing as he does. “Hi.” His voice is trembling and weak, as if it took him everything he got to say that tiny word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help but look at his hands, immediately sighing, responding with the same tone. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-come on in.” Carl gestures for you to go inside, timidly, but with courage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face falls, but you immediately amend your sentence. “I-it’s just… what I have to say is not gonna take long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… a-are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Just… listen to everything I have to say, and please, don’t interrupt me. It’s important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips perch as he nods. His eyes already misty avoid your gaze, and he tries his best to twine his fingers, lowering his hands. “Ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna start with this. I love you, Carl. I do. But we’re having some trouble understanding each other. So, all I’m gonna say is this: I care about you, more than you know. You’re the most important person in my life, and I’m thankful for meeting you. I respect you and your choices, and I love the fact that you’re a true nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles weakly, the corners of his eyes glistening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything you say, even if you don’t intend to, it’s funny. And the way you interpret the world is beyond crazy…!” you chuckle. “But it’s really unique, and it’s just one of the thousand reasons why I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pouts, nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I can’t watch you go insane over every little thing. The way you’ve been treating yourself, not taking care of your body… you know… not eating, not sleeping. How do you expect to run a company without your health? You say you wanna change the world and leave a legacy… how do you expect to leave a legacy if you’re not well enough to do it in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth, but you raise your finger. He shuts it right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking how, sometimes, you act like an alien, but the truth is, you act like a machine. And you need to understand that you’re not a machine, as far as I know…” you lower your brows, expectantly looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, bashfully smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you’d tell me if you were!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, relaxing his fingers, his hands staying on the sides of his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop treating yourself like you are invincible. You’re not! Even if you don’t wanna take it easy, you have to admit that you need to take it easy. I don’t wanna see you crumble under pressure. Some things are just… not worth it. And I’m not saying your company should come second to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You exhale from your mouth with kind eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying it should come second to you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head with furrowed brows, wiping under his eye. You feel a couple tears rolling on your cheek as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be your first choice. Not work, not me. You. And until you comprehend that, you’re still gonna be fighting demons, killing a lion every day. Is it worth it to work so hard, but not be able to appreciate your own masterpiece? To not be around to see it finished?” You take a deep breath. “Just… think about that, ok… that’s all I’m asking from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to talk, but you shake your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna give you some time. But just know that, I’m not taking a “no” for an answer on this one. And when you’re ready to talk to me, call me. I’ll absolutely pick up the phone.” You bite your inner lip. “But only when you’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You step closer to him, and without saying anything, you throw your arms on his neck. His head slowly buries itself in your hair. For a moment, he hesitates, but you feel his arms on your waist, and your chests stay pressed. His heart thumps faster by the second, luring a deep, sorrowful sigh from him, still on the crook of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The orange and clove, coming from his hair, is somewhat, reassuring, and it makes you smile, involuntarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you pull away, your lips touch his bony cheek with a lingering kiss. His gaze stays on yours as you raise your fingers to wipe the tears from under his eyes, the bags deeper and darker than never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sadness on his face is palpable as it is heartbreaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one last glance, you walk to your car, driving away. You can’t resist peeking at the rearview mirror, watching as he twines his fingers behind his head, his chest rising and falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You focus on the street ahead, a little sense of hope growing inside of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing you can do now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s ready, he’ll call.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A breakup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Sunday morning. A very rainy Sunday morning and you're awaken by your intercom ringing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few days ago, you had the most turbulent Thursday you had in months. Seeing Carl at the grocery store, Noah and Hope, Chelsea trying to bring everyone together. It was all too weird and uncomfortable, and you couldn’t wait to run from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt better after driving to Carl’s place and talking to him. It doesn’t matter how angry or confused you were, you needed to give him a reason to believe in your relationship, as much as you do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Chelsea did comfort you, in her own, unique way. Too unique, since you ended up drunk, playing twister, hitting her face with your bum. “I mean… at least it’s a good bum, girl!” she slapped it with a high pitch smack, trailing off as she raised her brows, realizing how hasty her voice was. “I think we need… w-water…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good idea!” you were speaking as if she was on the opposite side of your street and had a crowd between you. Your neighbors were less happy to hear you two dancing your troubles away, two am on a Friday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fine, in your mailbox, made that very clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you needed it. It was smothering how distant you and Carl were from fixing things, and even more not knowing what was coming towards you. Not knowing what he would decide to do, if he wanted to try again, or if he was even thinking about it. You feel the anxiety of the silence, and even though it feels daring to hand over the control, there’s not much you can do now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you can do is exercising the most cliché phrase of all. “Trust the process.” It sends a shudder of disgust down your spine just by thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who said this, in the first place?!” you threw your arms after Chelsea said those terrifying words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And after a few days, you find yourself in your bed, on a cold Sunday, being awakened by the chiming sound of your intercom. It’s excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to get up. But if you don’t, it’s just gonna keep ringing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming!” you yell in your grumpiest voice possible, as if whoever was on the other side could hear you. Suddenly, hope invades your heart and you straighten your face into a wondering expression. “Could it be Carl? So soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab the phone. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hi…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brows shadow your eyes, visible confusion roams on your face as you frown. “Who is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thick, weakened voice responds, briefly. “I-it’s me… it’s Noah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes go wide as you find yourself more confused. “Noah? What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” he trails off and you can hear a sniff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait. Let me buzz you in. I’m on the twelfth, apartment 1250.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hear the squeaking of the social entrance, followed by another sniff. A million thoughts come to mind, one more improbable than the other. Throwing a robe over your pajamas, you open the door to wait for him in the hallway. The elevator doors slide, and he steps out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, you see his eyes red, deepening with tears. What could possibly make Noah lose control like that, and worse, what could’ve brought him to London, at nine am, on a rainy Sunday?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes with difficulty, trying his best to hide his face behind his massive hands. You brush your fingers on his wrist, lowering them to see his tears. “Noah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” he puffs air from his mouth, wrinkling his forehead to avoid more tears. “C-can I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You step aside with a solidary look, leading him in your living room, closing the door behind you. “Do you want anything? Water? Coffee? Tissues?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles with sadness and takes a seat, after you gesture to the couch. “No, I’m fine…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… of course… in the remote case you’re not as fine as you say… I’m gonna make coffee anyway, so…” you trail off, searching for his eyes. They glisten with more tears, the amber shade gleaming through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… coffee sounds good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, come on.” You nod to the short hallway leading to the kitchen, pulling one of your stools for him. Next, you open the lid of your coffee maker, placing a capsule and two mugs under the tap. “So… sugar…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods slowly, fiddling with his fingers on his lap, playing with the rim of his shirt. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the fresh smell of coffee starts emanating from the steaming cups, you take a seat on the next stool, facing him as you slide a mug in his direction. “Tell me. What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cradles his face in his hands, his chest rising as he sobs. You’ve never seen Noah so vulnerable, so exposed. Not even back in the Villa, when the whole Operation Nope took place and seemed to be the biggest scandal in your time there. He didn’t take it lightly, but he wasn’t nearly affected like he seems right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah.” You place a warm hand on his shoulder, still searching for his eyes. “Talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still in silent sobs, he doesn’t appear to be capable of recomposing. You know Noah, his quirks, his manias and tastes. You also know, vaguely, about the life he lives in Romford.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tears, his desperation, could only mean one thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did it happen?” you direct your words as softly as possible. He raises his head from his grip, perching his lips as more tears roll to his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-how… how did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it was Luke or Clover, you would’ve said something, immediately. If it was your mom or dad, you would've called… but when it comes to… her… I guess the phone wouldn’t be enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gloomy chuckle escapes him as he takes the mug in his hands. You turn your back, to grab the tissue box from the other counter, pulling a couple to hand him. He blows his nose, shaking his head. “You know me pretty well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try. It’s what friends are for, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes raise at the word “friends” but he retracts with a sad smile. “I guess…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah was always so in control, it was hard to imagine him sobbing, or having a laughing fit. And now, you’ve seen him doing both. And it does feel like seeing a unicorn. “If you don’t wanna talk about it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I broke up with her…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…?” You’re shocked by his statement. Because the entire time Nope was a couple, you thought to yourself, if they broke up, it would be because of Hope’s desires. She was the one to be so determined and fierce. It’s unimaginable. It was, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what happened… I’m all ears.” You give him a firm nod and he stares at the ceiling, blinking away tears, sighing before speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We decided it was time to move in together. She wanted me to move to London, and I wanted to stay in Romford, because of my job. So, she packed a few things and came to stay with me for a while. But the entire time she was there, she would try and convince me to move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a sip from his mug, a tear hanging on his long lash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either way… the first days were ok. We were by ourselves, we would have breakfast and dinner together, watch something… I’d read… she’d take naps or work out, it was fine.” He clears his throat. “Then one day, I had to empty the second bedroom of my house, because she needed closet space… I found a box that my dad brought with him a few days earlier. They didn’t meet Hope... she was shooting a new commercial that week. So, he just left the box and I took it to the room and sort of… forgot about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was in it?” you ask, crossing your legs, sipping on your hot beverage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turns out, it was some of my things from when I was growing up. You know… clothes, a few toys, a Squiddle or two, things like that.” he smiles fondly. “I sat on the floor, taking all of them out of the box, just… you know... admiring them, reminiscing. I have great memories from my childhood, and the best parts are definitely the stuff I had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because my parents had to work really hard to give them to me and to my siblings… so I appreciate the toys a lot… do you know what I mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lick your lips, nodding slowly. “Of course. It’s symbolic… they’d work to give you the best. And to Clover and Luke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly…” He smiles dimly before continuing his story. “So, that day, I started reminiscing about my past… my childhood. And right after I finished high school, I figured I would put those things in a box…” he rests his fist under his chin, still recovering from the sobbing. “I wanted to give them to my child, you know? My dad did that, so I just… wanted to do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh, already expecting what he’s about to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then Hope came home that day, and that’s when things derailed a little bit. She found me, hugging a sweater that used to be mine, and I admit... I had a couple of tears… it was emotional to see all that stuff.” his voice becomes a little dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I get it. You have to be pretty cold not to feel anything about your own stuff. Especially things from when you were a kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get it, then.” He shoots you the softest smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what happened next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… it was awful…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah’s gaze turns dark, looking at your counter, as if he was watching the happening on the surface. “We started talking about how her closet would work in that space, and I said something about, eventually, buying a new house, because of the nursery. And she was… kind of shocked... she said it would probably take forever for us to even start thinking about that.” he shakes his head, looking up. “We argued about this over and over, because this is something you and all my mates know, I want kids.” He taps his own chest. “I want a family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up from his seat, pacing your kitchen as he rubs his forehead. A moment later, he stops, tipping his head, propping his hands on the sink. His voice cracks as he sobs once more. “Thing is, I thought she was gonna change her mind, someday.” he wipes under his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And she told you she isn’t…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns only his head, the chalky light from outside illuminating his tears as they roll on his cheeks. “She said kids will never be part of her life, and her career is what really matters to her. She spoke for half an hour, about everything that is important to her…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You move to stay beside him, grazing your thumb on his cheek, wiping the tears. He stops, looking down at you as he feels your fingertip on his face. “So, what did you do, Noah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I didn’t say anything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab another tissue, drying under his eyes. “You should’ve said something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face turns to see the rainy day through the window, his voice filled with frustration. “What was I supposed to say?” he throws his arms. “That I want kids, but louder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh, taking one of his hands but he shrugs it off, wide eyes. “It’s just…” he bangs his fist on the sink. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… you and Carl…” Noah trails off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok. You don’t wanna cross a line. I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glimpses from the corner of your eye as you continue. “Tell me what happened after that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long, deep breath exhaled in short puffs later, he speaks again, a little more recomposed. “She left. After speaking for 30 minutes, she slammed the door and left. I simply picked up everything, and put it back in the box, hoping she would come back, so we could fix this.” he sniffs, twitching his thumb on the sink. “Then, that night, Luke called me… you know... my brother is a radical type. Usually he’s the first one to say, “dump her”, but he didn’t say anything that day. He was muted for almost the entire time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess... I’m always the one to defend her. How dumb can someone be?” he facepalms, rubbing his temples. “So, when I finished speaking to him, he just ended the conversation and hung up. I decided to turn in, and not call her, not speak to her, unless she would come to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you did that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...” he narrows his eyes, staring off at the distance. “Every time, it’s me. I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m the one to make amends, to try and fix things, and always go the extra mile…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a swift moment, your head roams on you and Carl, reflecting on his words. “Always the one to make amends, to fix things, to go the extra mile”, but as Noah’s voice goes louder, you turn your focus on him, again, brushing off your thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took me three days to go back to that room. I took everything out of the box and held them one last time… and she walked in, took a look at me and just… went crazy.” he points to his chest, his misty eyes giving in. “Mate, I was saying goodbye to my things… I was about to throw them in the garbage! For her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His puffy eyes and red face make your heart break. The more he speaks, the more you feel your own eyes glistening in solidarity. He manages to power through, to finish the story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t even do that! Not even say goodbye to those things... they were part of my life. And I had to throw them out, because if I kept them, I wouldn’t be able to...” he pauses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” you pat his shoulder, feeling a light shudder on his back as he moves a little far from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway. So, when she yelled her first phrase, I just slammed the door… I lost it!” Noah sniffs, trying to control his cracking voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! You? You slammed the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites his bottom lip from crying more, nodding as his head hangs, defeated. “Yeah. She wasn’t having it, she tried to leave, but… every time is the same thing. She leaves and expects me to apologize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you...?” you get a tissue, drying a few tears going on his neck. He’s startled at first, eyes wide, more tears hanging on his lids, but lets you proceed as you dry his chin and under his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told her I was done with all of that. I was done with her! I couldn’t see my friends unless she was there. I couldn’t go to my family’s house, unless she was with me… it was insane. Mate… for three months, she had to be by my side at all moments. Sometimes she would stop by the library, just because…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cut him short with an unconformed voice. “Oh, come on! That’s absurd! You proved to her, more than once, that she can trust you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she didn’t trust me, and it was clear… I thought we would get past that, after Priya left. But then, it was the Villa, new girls. So, we left, and she kept monitoring me. If I went to the grocery store by myself, it was a reason to hear her yelling, too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about that.” Your hands stay on his shoulder, trying to give him a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t even imagine…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He covers his eyes, sighing. “I should’ve said something… especially after that dumping. I was so stupid! And the way she acted back home... it made me think about the decisions I made, in the show.” His gaze stays on you, roaming on your face as you listen to him, a certain kindness in his undertone, but he stops abruptly, continuing his story. “Because I don’t know why I didn’t do anything before. I don’t know what came on to me that I never confronted her...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, then at his palms, breathing heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I hate fighting, but… that guy? That Noah that didn’t open his mouth to speak up to her, that took everything for what it was? That was never me. I was never like that. And I hate that I let her do that to me... use me like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, mate… we were there. We saw the way she was behaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah turns to you, looking down with tender eyes, among tears. “You know, the only time Rahim said something to me, about this, it was in front of the boys and I just… I shut him down, right away. I thought he was being disrespectful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” you furrow your brows, remembering a moment back in the Villa, with a smile. “You know, Rahim was the one to tell us that even though it would take some effort, someone could turn your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” He bites his lip again. “I was the one to tell him that…” he watches your reaction, expectantly, as you take a seat by the counter, offering him his mug of hot coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s good to drink.” He takes it, his fingertips lightly brushing on your knuckles. You clear your throat. “So… why didn’t you? Why not break up with her and couple up with someone else? Like… Priya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah tips his head to the side, chuckling a little more at ease. “Believe it or not, I cared about Hope…I liked her a lot, and at some point, it was too late to go back... but the thing with Priya... she’s so loud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope is loud, Noah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah... but we were together... I didn’t wanna be a jerk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take his hand in yours, squeezing it as you ask, in a low voice. “Do you regret it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “No… I guess I had to go through that to learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” You let go of his hand, grabbing your mug and taking a sip. “Tell me... what happened when you slammed the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I lost it. I started speaking loudly… couldn’t hold back. I was finally letting it all out and I didn’t even know how much there was to let out.” His voice goes softer as he rubs his chin. “All my frustration… all my disappointment towards her. Everything that made me so angry and I suppressed it for all this time… it was all out. About Priya, the operation, the Villa, how I realized she was always in control… all the shouting coming from her in every fight, every time she made me feel small…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He covers his face, shaking his head, his voice cracking as he speaks, slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mate… it was brutal. I yelled, banged my fist on the doors, on the walls. I couldn’t stop and she saw what she had done. I was screaming... me!” he gestures to himself, shifting on his seat. “Throwing everything in her face. All the times she doubted me for nothing, the absurd jealousy in the Villa and out of it. I didn’t hold anything back… just opened the tab and my anger just… was out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your brows, astonished. “I’m so sorry, mate. What did she do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She just… stood there, watching everything. I went to my bedroom, put her things into a suitcase and threw it on the floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help but feel a little proud. “I see… then what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was saying how much I wanted a family, how much I needed a companion, and whatever she was of mine, it wasn’t that. She was just a girl that wasted four months of my life.” He rubs his temples, still with a weak voice. “I always had to put myself in second place, because she was the only one that mattered in this... god forsaken relationship! I was never a priority and none of the things I liked mattered. My collections, my routine, my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, your house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, did I not mention it? She wanted to redo my entire house. She was even interviewing contractors without my knowledge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… what?” your eyes go wide as you stare at him in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” he laughs, bitterly. “She was gonna renovate the house that I bought, without consulting me, because she needed more space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… shit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“”Oh shit” is right… she was unbelievably controlling but, come on! I bought that house with my poor librarian money! I deserved to have the house the way I wanted!” He sniffs again, wiping his angry tears. “But still, I didn’t say anything about that, I just let it slide. But the way she was treating me when I was holding my stuff…she said things… hurtful things. “It’s never gonna happen...” “You should let go”.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mouth hangs open. You knew Hope would be the selfish type, but never you imagined she would be that terrible or out of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did... but the thing that sent me off was “I thought I’d come here to let you apologize”. That was the last drop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His nerves are more than apparent as you grab his shoulders to rub them. “I don’t remember a lot of the things I said, but what I do remember was her, crying, covering her face.” His gaze falls on your hand, on one side, trying his best to keep his breathing normal. He straights himself up, slightly shrugging off from your touch, casually continuing his story. “The only thing going through my mind was good riddance. And when the car got there, I just opened the door and stepped aside. She left and I slammed it shut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You exhale from your mouth, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. I know it must feel pretty heavy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does… it really does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t know how to proceed. If you should hug him or not. He doesn’t seem to be eager to receive a hug from you. His voice cuts your thoughts short. “I just can’t believe it took me so long to see who she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. It happens. With girls, boys… it happens. And sometimes... a toxic relationship takes way longer to be over. You snapped out of it... and I’m proud of you, mate!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, tilting his head, finally giving a genuine, content smile. “Yeah? You’re proud of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? I waited this whole time that we know each other, to see you genuinely happy.” you wipe a couple of happy tears from your face. “I’m so glad we can finally have you in our life, without anyone giving you shit for it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” His tone is not contented. Not as yours are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… you are gonna be part of our lives, right? Here, in Romford… we finally get to be friends!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence hovering is deafening. Noah’s mouth opens and closes, in a succession of attempts of speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Of course, I will. We are friends.” He sighs. “You’re a true mate…” his lips purse. “I know you tried to warn me… and it just… well, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down as he toys with the knee of his pants, wistfully. “You did more than you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t, but I’m here. Always. Like you said, we’re friends. Nothing's gonna change that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” He mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more question. Have you talked to the boys? About this whole… event?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “Bobby is… he’s gonna…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pull him into a hug, giving reassuring strokes on his back. “Be supportive. Just like Carl, Gary, Rahim, Lucas and Henrik… they’ll be there for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think all of them are gonna be that supportive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bobby is more sensitive than you think! Boy is packing a heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… Bobby…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, finishing your coffee, now placing the ceramic mug in the sink. “Besides, I’m just a few miles away. We can skype! We can talk on the phone, text.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ll do my best.” He gets up from his seat, scratching his jaw and for a moment, you see his head hanging. “I should probably get going…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?” you grab a few eggs from the fridge, scattering various ingredients by the stove. “Stay, we can have breakfast!” your eyes plead to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… I should… I need to, erm…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Luke has a thing today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today? Today is Sunday…” you move to stay closer to him, by the kitchen entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! He… asked me to take him to the center, to… train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s too bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah hastily rushes to the living room, reaching for the knob. “Yeah. Too bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah… you drove all the way here… to leave right after?” He stops, turning to face you as you approach him, tilting your head up. “I mean… stay for breakfast… it’s the least I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done… enough…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously.” He takes a couple of steps towards you, tipping his head to the side, staring at you with soft, but sad eyes. “You’re… a good friend. And I don’t wanna… abuse your hospitality.” He sighs. “But thank you. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I at least… give you a hug? I feel like I didn’t do anything helpful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his head, exhaling sharply. “Sure, you did. You listened to me. That’s more than enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still…” you spread your arms, and he meets you halfway. Noah is the tallest of the boys and it’s easy to hear his heart, thumping, when you embrace each other. It races with every second and he pulls away, quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta go.” He closes the door behind him, before you can say anything else, rushing to leave. The door slams, startling you and you furrow your brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Unexpected role play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The day of Chelsea’s Reunion arrives, and with it, a little painful realization. Right now, you’re in the middle of a stormy silence with Carl, and it doesn’t seem like things will get back to normal so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You promised to yourself you would give him the space he needs to figure things out. And so far, it’s been one of the hardest things you have ever done. Knowing the amount of time you could be spending together, and are not, brings a knot in your throat. One that crying doesn’t make it go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, you can spell it out as much as you want. Comprehension comes from the inside, especially in his case. He doesn’t know how to deal with emotions, and even though he tries, it’s still a challenge to understand people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare your closet up and down, mind completely gone, in hopes to find pieces to make a full costume. Even if there was something, you can’t focus enough to find it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because, of course, you were the one to suggest the Halloween Reunion, and yet, the one to forget to pick up an outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As your hands rummage through your clothes, and a few grunts of frustration escape your lips, you start to get tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did I mention frustration? Because not only you don’t have anything to wear, Carl hasn’t called all week. And that’s the only thing you care right now, but let’s pretend your anger is due to your lack of outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s gotta be something in here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You yell at no one, throwing pieces of clothing on your bed, more hopeless than ever. You and Carl are in the weirdest place you have ever been in your relationship, and you’re not even able to distract yourself with a simple, fun task of finding clothes to wear, at a party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Party, which will be awkward, since you will be going to distract yourself from him, and he’ll probably stay at home, working. The nerves are getting to you with every second. You’re too close to throw the towel and order a pizza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you want is a simple “Yes, I’ll stop working so much and take care of myself”, but it seems more and more distant from happening, every time you discuss the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you have left is to sit on the bed and throw your arms in surrender. You take a look around at the mess in your bedroom and are reminded that the last time it was this messy, was a couple of days before you left for the Villa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The excitement of packing, to use cute bathing suits, to go on a TV show and meeting new people. To have some fun!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had no idea you were about to meet the most alienated, workaholic and dedicated, cute dweeb you’ve ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One way or the other, Carl had you on “hi”. But trying to make everything work, by yourself, is exhausting, frustrating, and just plain sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, it’s time to hit the kitchen and pour yourself a drink, because it’s Saturday night, and there’s no way you’re gonna face it sober. Even if you wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you walk to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of red, the intercom rings. You frown in confusion, calculating who it could be. Maybe Chelsea, to save your night, with a costume on one hand and a bottle of Prosecco on the other, ready to give you a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before reaching the intercom, you already make sure to kill your first glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An awkward silence hovers for a moment, followed by a stuttering Carl. “H-Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. It’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi.” you stare at the floor, confused. “So. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m g-good… just… yeah, I’m good. And you?” the undertone in his voice could be defined as “fearful”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Me too.” The conversation drops rhythm and the silence takes over again. You stay nodding, with perched lips, waiting for him to speak again, holding the phone on your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… erm… can you buzz me in? Unless that’s not something you wanna do, in that case…” he sighs. “I’ll just leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Erm… I mean… yeah, I’ll b-buzz you in. Come on up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You push the button and unlock the door, brows lowering over your eyes. You wait for him in the hallway, in your robe, feeling your heart burning in your chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your stomach is filled with butterflies and you have zero clue of why he’s here, but still, deep down, love that he came to visit. Even if it’s just gonna be another fight, you missed Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sexiest sound in the world, a “ding”, chimes from the elevator, its doors sliding, to reveal a Carl that makes your jaw drop. He comes out of it, his head low, approaching you, a hand in his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” taken aback, with wild eyes, you stare at his outfit, clearly forgetting about your fight for a split second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, bashfully, and a weak smile grows on his lips as he looks in your eyes. “What do you think?” he opens his arms, spinning slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think… you look…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s voice cracks and he panics, typically. “You hated it!” he facepalms, squinting with embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tilt your head, with a smile, raising your hands to reassure him. “No! I love it! It’s a little more traditional…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You noticed, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re Spock, so… yeah!” you notice a brown bag in his hand and nod to it. “What do you have there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this? Erm, c-can we get in before I show you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You realize you’re still in the hallway. “Sure! Sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you both step in your living room, you close the door behind you, not being able to stop smiling. For a moment, you catch Carl’s eyes as you turn to face him. He smiles coyly, cheeks red and then you notice. A much less deepness to the bags under his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… Carl… what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought, if you want to, of course… maybe we could…” he raises the bag, handing it to you. “Coordinate costumes…?” He hesitates, grabbing the uniform from the bag. The moment he shows you, realization dawns on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… you want us to go together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the floor, but nods with a quick glance. “Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile, expectantly, making his cheeks flush. “And in this scenario… am I supposed to be Michael Burnham?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to…” he stammers, nervously wincing in place. “If you don’t want to... you know… it’s like I said…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to, Carl.” you reach for the costume, plucking it from his trembling hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes spark with hope as you grab the costume with such enthusiasm. He watches, carefully, your every move as you analyze the parts, placing them on the backrest of your couch, stripping your robe. Carl’s eyes roam on your body, his cheeks blushing in a deeper tone of red. Suddenly he turns to the side, avoiding looking directly at you, as you strip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You prepare to slip on the first piece, noticing his averting gaze. “Erm, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” he stays in place, facing the wall with laced fingers in front of his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you facing the other way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… I just thought you would want some privacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t hold back a giggle. “Right… because you’re a complete stranger…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to see you smiling, and scratches the back of his neck, rattled. “Sorry… I thought you would… I-I don’t know what I thought.” he perches his lips, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I get it, Carl. Just…” you pause, observing him. “Just talk to me. How was your week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was g-good… sort of… also really weird… and just... I don’t know…” he lets out a nervous laugh, before noticing you’re putting on the pants, one leg at a time and pulling it up. His gaze falls on your torso when the strap of your bra falls from your shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rushes to adjust it. His bruised fingertips graze the fabric on your upper arm, putting it back in place. An involuntary smile spreads across his lips and the touch of his fingers makes your hairs stand on end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at each other, awkwardly trying to find words. His citric scent emanates from his neck. The notes of orange and clove make you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You keep smiling, out of embarrassment, searching for topics to discuss. Apparently, he’s going through the same thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers lie on your skin, for this long moment, and you place your hand on top of his, still looking at his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes the distance, slowly, glancing at your lips, as if asking for permission. You nod, leaning in closer, letting your faces stay an inch apart. His warm, minty breath tickles your chin as he comes closer to your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips find yours in a gentle kiss and you immediately give in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a mix of missing his voice, his eyes, his presence. He has a way of closing the distance between you, that drives you crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You deepen the kiss, your arms circling his neck. His tongue touches yours, massaging it as his kiss grows in passion and his touches become urgent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away, breathless, keeping his hands to himself, on the sides of his body. “I’m sorry… I-I don’t know what came on to me...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl.” Your voice is calm and inviting. “Please… don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His relieved smile reaches his eyes, his thumbs grip your jaw, keeping you in place so he can kiss you again. The flicker of his tongue sends you in a spiral of electricity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel a smile growing between your lips, you and he are finally sharing another moment and can’t help being happy about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lead him to the couch, never breaking eye contact, bringing him by holding his hand. His fingertips slide from yours, roaming on your arm then neck, to let your hair down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You toss it to the side, letting his mouth explore your skin, leaving a trail of soft bites. Your hands push him, making him plop on the cushion while you slip off the new pants, sitting astride of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only a murmur escapes from his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gaze follows his moves, as he props himself on his elbows. You talk closely to his ear, making him shudder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tug his bottoms down, all at once, hungry to have him, right there, at that moment. He removes his jacket, throwing it on a chair nearby, gripping your face to kiss you again as you adjust yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mouth runs on his chest and stomach, making his small gasps more frequent. He loves feeling your lips and tongue on his body. You leave a trail, biting your way up, to nibble his neck and then his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop yourself, suppressing a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes search for yours, preoccupied. “W-what’s wrong? Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… it’s just…” You point to his ears, still stifling a chuckle. “You’re dressed as Spock…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out a laugh, making Carl’s cheeks flush. “Right! I’ll take them off…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He touches the tips of the rubber ears, but you stop him before he can remove them. “Nah… leave them on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his brows, with a surprised smile, taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stay on top of him, his smile growing, looking up at you as you guide his fingers on your thighs, moving slowly inwards, to feel your drenched underwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, as you moan softly by his touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you… so much…” He speaks into your mouth, before kissing you again, this time, hungrily. His fingers slide under your waist, and the circular motions give you chills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, noticing your eyes are closed, feeling the work of his hands. Your fingernails dig his upper arms, as he picks up the pace, moving faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cup his chin, biting your bottom lip, moving his hands to remove your underwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fabric scrapes your skin, falling on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re about to straddle Carl again, but he gets up from his seat, pulling your legs around his waist and moving to press you on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gasp, with a light laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nips your ear, playfully, speaking in a low tone. “I love when you make that sound…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at you, gripping you firmly, as you remove your bra. His tongue swirls on your chest, softly grunting as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands brush on his forearms when he presses his body against yours, licking your collarbone. You feel his bare skin touching yours, your hips meeting, sending a jolt in your stomach. You both toss your heads back, shutting your eyes, feeling each other’s warmth as he sinks into you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrusts his hips, slowly at first, his mouth never leaving your neck or breasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vibration of his grunts ripple on your skin. Your arms circle his neck, and your legs stay around his waist. A wave of intense pleasure roams your spine when he flexes his knees, going deeper in you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up tempo, rolling his hips, hearing your pleading. He takes a grip of your legs, turning around to pop you on the dining table, a shiver running down your spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lays you down on the surface, putting your legs against his chest. You see his skin, glistening with beads of sweat. His voice comes out in a whisper when he notices you staring at him. “Are you alright… babe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An involuntary smile grows on your lips, uncontrollably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You just… look amazing from here, Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins, shaking his head. He doesn’t respond, grazing his thumb on your cheek, then sliding it all across your chest, stomach, then placing it a little below your waistline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves it gingerly, but firmly, sending waves of pleasure, while his hips move forward, sinking into yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrusts in sync with his bruised fingertip pleasing you, shutting his eyes, groaning as he goes deeper and deeper, taking his time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You arch your back, moaning his name repeatedly. His stomach muscles contract as he rocks against you, letting out a guttural sound, saying your name. Your body shudders and you, instinctively prop yourself on your elbows, rolling your hips against his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thumb pleasures you, the waves rippling through your wet skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You move together in perfect sync, his other hand digging the sides of your hip bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grip the edge of the table, the deeper he goes inside of you. The crests grow and you toss your head back, crying out his name again. You melt on his wet skin, tumbling into ecstasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes loudly, trying to stop himself from reaching his bliss too soon and stops his moves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here…” You plead, but he shakes his head, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your turn… again…” He pulls a chair, placing it in front of you, bringing you closer to the edge of the table, his mouth brushing on your legs, starting on your ankles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grazes his lips, slowly, between bites and kisses, he follows a line along your entire leg. You feel his tongue teasing the inwards of your thighs, with a light laughter when you gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You narrow your eyes at him, and he raises his brows, keeping eye contact as he slips his mouth where you need him the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swipes his tongue, slowly, firmly, in up and down motions, making your heart race again. You clutch his head, making him bury his face deeper into you. Your voice is weak, mingled with your moans, calling out his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… right there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only the top off Carl’s head is visible, but it goes in fast, sending shivers through your scalp. You feel the peach fuzz on your face stand on end, and he focuses on one spot, pressing his mouth and the tip of his tongue, reaching the layers of your soaked skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grips your wrists, forcing you to hold his head in place and guide it. Your hips roll, moving with his tongue as he continues to lick, increasing the heat of pleasure on your body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weak grunt warns him as you feel yourself melting in his mouth. He never stops stroking, until your crest ceases and you grab his head, smiling widely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl looks up at you, whispering “That was fun…” licking his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, you bounce from the surface, now hooking one leg on his waist. “I love when you do that, Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love doing that…” His face becomes serious, and you don’t say anything else. Kissing him deeply, pulling him closer, you guide his body to move against yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugs you, grinding. You feel the sweat from his chest on yours, and he grunts as you move with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your teeth graze his shoulder, and you clasp his head, dominating the movements, rocking your hips faster. “It’s your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grits his teeth, trying to respond, but it’s impossible to focus, with your body rocking as it does. He groans loudly, from the feeling of your bare skin on his, but pleads for you to not stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You teasingly cease, smirking. He tosses his head back, laughing. “You’re so cruel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ever forget that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, taken aback but smirks along with you. “I kinda like it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You restart, slowly swallowing him. His hands grip your ass and thighs, lifting you, taking you to the couch, where you mount him. Your hips grind him, vigorously. A sore feeling under your waist intensifies as you ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lean in, speaking in a low, breathy voice. “Like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, rapidly. His fingers digging your sides, his head hanging back as he starts shuddering. His eyes shut, his brows upwards as he feels the waves of pleasure your body gives him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pleads more, his voice cracking. “Please… please don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s arms embrace you, keeping you in place, his hips moving upwards, with yours. You feel him twitching inside of you, his legs trembling and his stomach jerking with energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuts his eyes, feeling his bliss, holding on to you as he grunts your name, every muscle on his torso twitches as he tumbles into bliss, under you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hips start slowing down, moving gently to tease another jerk in his body, until it stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathless, he rests his forehead on your chest. His voice resonates close to your skin, but you hear it loud and clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you... so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, nuzzling the top of his head, catching the citric scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile, his eyes finding yours. Your index finger runs along his Spock ears, making him laugh as he speaks. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I didn’t know either...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll to sit next to him. He pulls you in so your head rests on his chest. His heart is beating fast, and it worries you. “Is everything alright, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at you, kissing the top of your head, trying his best to catch his breath. “Everything is perfect…” He hesitates before speaking again. “Hey… can we… stay like this? Just for a little while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t respond verbally, pulling the blanket from your couch, covering both of you. His satisfied chuckle is contagious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take too long for both of you to drift off on each other’s arms, softly snoring.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An annoying chiming ring comes from behind the backrest of the couch. “Whaaaat?” you drag your voice, and yourself, to pick it up. “Oh my god! Carl!” you slap his shoulder, desperately trying to wake him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five… more… minutes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl!” you vociferate, startling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumps from under the covers, his head turning to all sides, eyes wide. “I’m up! I’m up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good! I’m gonna take a quick shower, you can go next… we’re already late! Chelsea is gonna murder us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still blinking his way into reality, he watches you, through droopy eyes, as you run towards your bedroom, a towel in hand. “Ok…” Shrugging, he goes back to his sleeping position, snuggling under the covers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even five minutes later, you rush back to the living room, slipping on your costume. “Carl…” you use a soft tone to your voice. “Carl…” but has no effect. “Carl!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! I’m up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hand him a towel, leading his sleepy self to the bathroom, watching as he wobbles, like a drunk person. “Watch your step.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you finish getting ready, he comes out of the bathroom, towel covering his bottom half, now more awake and alert, immediately picking up pieces of his costume, all scattered across your floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We made quite the mess…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smirk. “Wanna make another one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes, noticing you in full-on Michael Burnham costume, scratching his scruff. “I… oof!” he shudders, shaking his head rapidly, getting dressed. “You’re just testing me… I know you are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha… but you passed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still ecstatic by your afternoon with Carl, you request a car to get to Chelsea’s party, at a house, downtown. Apparently one of the finest, most expensive locations in London. Carl would know, being the posh man, he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chelsea has great taste…” he looks at the surroundings of the family neighborhood, now turning his focus on you. “So… are you ready to see everyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hesitate, grazing a finger on his jaw. “Well… not everyone. But I’ll tell you what. This is all gonna be incredibly… awkward... if everyone shows up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is that?” he frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope and Noah broke up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?!” he stops on his tracks, taken aback. “Th-they broke up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know right? I thought this kind of spell was supposed to work for seven years!” you shrug with a laugh, but he doesn’t respond, pushing the doorbell button. “are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peachy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you can say anything, a blur of pink and the chiming of bracelets come rushing in, to open the door besides the garage entry. “Guys!” intensely squealy, Chelsea almost chokes you two, bringing you closer to a bear hug. “I’m so glad you guys came! And together…” she shoots you a smirk and a look, nodding slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels…” you and Carl say in unison, immediately sharing a curious look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… come on in! Almost everyone is here already!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn to whisper to her, out of Carl’s earshot. “Almost everyone? So she…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods, draping an arm on your shoulder. “Oh, no. She’s here. And so is he.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, you notice Chelsea’s costume, immediately stopping on your tracks. “Girl! Are you Elle Woods?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shimmies, shaking the bag on her shoulder, a small plushy dog inside. “You know it!” her eyes fall on your costume and a crease appears between her brows. “I’m confused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… Michael Burnham… Star Trek: Discovery… the…” you shake your head. “Never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” she points to Carl, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you an elf…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stifle a laugh, pinching the bridge of your nose, eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… Spock… Live long and prosper…” he does the sign, dividing his fingers, two on each side of his raised hand. “Star Trek, Chels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok.” She shrugs, walking away and he shoots you a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unbelievable…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… remember when Chelsea asked if the Avengers movie was based on facts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth, sighing. “Good point…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping in on the backyard, you see the boys by the coping of the pool. Rahim and Noah talk, absorbed in their own conversation, their costumes almost too clever to not be noticed. Prince Naveen laughs, discreetly at something a Violet Man says, now turning his head to watch you walk in, a tender look on his amber eyes. He waves with a low hand and Rahim follows his lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sexy chef Bobby and a very rugged werewolf Gary attempt a game of “Catch”, but you know, with their mouths. The pastry chef throws a nacho, like a frisbee, and Gary catches it with his massive, hairy hand, shoving it in his mouth. They shrug together as he talks through a full mouth. “It counts…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lottie, Marisol and Hope are on the opposite side of the garden, whispering their conversation as they sip on their colorful drinks. A very unoriginal witch Lottie scoffs as he sees you, followed by Hope, who you can’t really identify the costume. You simply wave, now focusing your attention on Priya. She comes running on her heels, arms wide open and a smile, also a loud chiming of bracelets on both arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babes!!” she embraces you with such warmth, you even forget about the awkwardness hovering for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s my favorite designer doing?!” you’re taken aback by her golden outfit and her headpiece, immediately clutching your heart. “Do you have to look fabulous at all times?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl… yes!” she spins, showing off her clothes and you and Carl perch your lips, impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look incredible, Priya.” Carl moves closer to give her a friendly hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s my favorite nerd doing, huh?!” she swings him from side to side, now chuckling when pulling away, her Cleopatra wig fluttering with the breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at him, expectantly. “Wow… how do you make him shut up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, awkwardly, but his gaze falls on Noah and Rahim, who now walk towards your group, both boys extending a hand to Carl for him to shake. “How are you, man? Long time, no see.” The golfer doesn’t pick up the energy between Carl and Noah, shaking his hand enthusiastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright. You? A lot of matches lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Rahim gives an elaborated answer, it seems Carl is not exactly focused on it, instead, his eyes are glued to you and Noah as the librarian hugs you, tightly, speaking in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You whisper your question to him, out of any earshot. “How are you feeling after…? You know.” He nods in response, raising his glass with a relaxed smile. “Right… I thought you’d be feeling better by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I am. She… is not.” He glances to the other side of the backyard, where Hope and Lottie stay put. “But it is what it is. I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of seeing the rest of my friends.” He extends his massive hand to Carl, who seemingly doesn’t notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” you nudge him, and he grins as Bobby and Gary approach, completely ignoring Noah’s extended arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys!” the three of them bearhug each other, mostly Gary and Bobby messing Carl’s neatly straight hair as they stay in formation. It looks like the crane operator exchanged a couple of looks with your boyfriend, but you’re not sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys then move to your side, nudging you, excessively, to make you laugh. “Ok, ok! I see you! Hi!” in turns, they embrace you with a warm hug, Gary’s furry face tickling your shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobby…” you watch him pose, showing off his high toque and an open coat, his abs twitching as he flexes his muscles with a frown. “Alright… don’t hurt yourself…” you slap his arm, playfully, luring a laugh from him. “You must be freezing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises a shot of ‘Bobby Fish’ with a smirk. “The alcohol helps…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We missed you, despite you ignoring us, completely!” Gary picks up tall icy glasses from a tray nearby, offering them to you and Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like I knew you guys were living together!” you gesture to him and Bobby, who now, drapes an arm on your shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The werewolf stays on focus, telling the story about a recent incident when they moved in his house, and the other boys helped. “You should’ve seen this wanker! Henrik dropped the cabinet door, it went…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Straight to Bobby’s face, yeah, I know…” you cut him short, sipping on your drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! That was the funny part!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I was the only one who didn’t know… apparently.” You glance at Noah then at Carl. “Noah told me when we ran into each other the other day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of Noah’s name, Carl grits his teeth for a split second, taking a gulp from the glass, almost finishing it in one sip. “Oof! I need more!” he moves to the bar, without saying anything else, Chelsea in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. That’s what happened to us!” Bobby ruffles Gary’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruv! Why the hair? It’s always the hair!” he throws his arms, luring a laugh from you and the others. “Seriously! Stop! It’s at least twice a day! And now that we’re roommates? He doesn’t leave me alone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… why did you move to England, Bobby?” you ask, now pulling a chair from the circle behind you, the others following your lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he and Gary sit astride of the chair, their elbows propped on the backrest. “I wanted to open my own business…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, that’s so cool!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! And I wouldn’t have a lot of money, so I needed to cut down some expenses. The crane man, here…” he grabs the back of Gary’s head, affectionately, making him smile. “He offered his place, for me to stay… so I can focus my money on my bakery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… business owner…” you turn to the group with a smirk. “Imagine Bobby serving cakes dressed like that…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Priya bites her thumb, mockingly. “Oof, show off those curves, sir!” she twirls her finger, hissing. “Yes!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby gets up from his seat, doing several poses, to the disgust of the boys, and entertainment of the girls. “Take it off, boy!” a shout, from Chelsea, startles him to re-take his seat and stay put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh at his reaction, lowering your brows. “Bobby…? What…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mouths “later” and turns to the group, embarrassed, avoiding the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… erm… do you have the money yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I’m only short on a couple of grand, but I’m about to get my severance check.” He rubs his palms, enthusiastically. “Can’t wait for the fifteenth, man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know… I can already see it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! You’re gonna mock me again over the costume? I know I look…” he gives you a smoldering look. “Delicious…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa… slow your row, there, Mary Berry. Her boyfriend is right there!” Gary points his furry hand to the bar, and you turn to see Carl and Chelsea in a whispery conversation. “Oi! Car, Chelsea, are you ever coming back or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You continue focusing on Bobby, now crossing your legs, your hand on your holster. “Well, I was gonna say I can already picture you, in a fine ass bakery… toe boy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on! You saw that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” The laughs start rippling through the group, Noah and Rahim stifling a chuckle. “Oh, come on… have some sense of humor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea and Carl walk towards the group, Spock pulling a chair and sitting between you and Noah. “what are we talking about? What happened? What did I miss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” you whip your phone from your holster, opening a message Gary sent to you a couple of days earlier. “Someone thought it was a good idea remixing every time Bobby talked, mentioned or sucked a toe, back in the Villa!” you show the screen, a growing rhythm in the background. “It’s called “Toeby”.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name is not super original…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but this?” your finger points at the exact moment Bobby puts three toes from different girls, back in the Casa Amor days, in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobby… this is… argh!” your boyfriend keeps shaking his head, wrinkling his nose with disgust. “So many toes… why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group laughs out loud, Priya and Rahim grabbing their sides, singing along with the surprisingly catchy song. “W-what? Like this?” on the video, Hannah’s scream is audible as she runs away from Bobby, who wiggles his toes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general mockery is interrupted by the doorbell, alerting Chelsea to pick up the keys. “Must be the boys!” she turns on her heels, glancing at Bobby before following the path to the front door. Not even two minutes later, to the sound of Gary voicing the video, a vampire Lucas and a Thor Henrik appear from the hallway, now joining the group, Elle Woods trailing after them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hug festival begins as the ex-islanders embrace each other. “Hey, gorgeous!” Henrik throws his arms around you, swinging you from side to side, followed by Lucas. “Hey there…” he narrows his eyes, trying to decipher your costume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Michael Burnham!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool… who is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes, slapping his arm. “Never mind…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idle chat begins as your friends start exchanging stories about their time, after the Villa. “Yeah, Jo is competing right now…” before you can think to yourself “who cares?”, Rahim sips on his drink, watching as Noah glances at you. “Hey… I need your opinion on something… oi, Prince Naveen?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” his startled, wide eyes turn to see his friend, snapping his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your opinion on something…” the Violet Man looks pointedly at Noah, before turning on his heel. They enter the house, leaving the group to chat more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway… I know what we’re missing…” Chelsea runs up to a table, across the pool area, now turning on the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Priya jumps from her seat, sliding her manicured fingers on her outfit, her gaze on Lucas. “There’s no way I’m gonna waste this outfit. Bike boy, you’re with me.” She hooks her finger on his splattered, bloody tunic, dragging him to the dancefloor. His cheeks flush but a giant grin spreads across his lips as she winks at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn…” Gary perches his lips, impressed. “Wish a girl would drag me like that… anywhere really…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cup your mouth, whispering. “Oi… don’t speak too loudly. Lottie might hear you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shudders, dusting off his shoulders. “I’ll keep my mouth shut!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, they move to the dancefloor, grabbing drinks on the way. Only you and Carl stay in the circle, and Hope, Lottie and Marisol on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel a tension in the air, shivering with the cold gust of wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here…” Carl shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on your shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks…” your eyes meet his, but before you can say anything, Priya grabs your wrist, pulling you from your seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think I was gonna let you off the hook, right?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good!” she grabs you, by your shoulders, leading you to the middle of the floor, beckoning Carl to join you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right there…” he turns to the side, eyeing Rahim and Noah as they come back, now hanging out by the bar, watching the girls and boys having fun, tossing hairs and shaking their bodies as they laugh, singing along with the lyrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you dance, teasing Priya and Chelsea, Carl approaches you, taking you by the hand. He tries his best to look natural, clearing his throat. “I swear, I’ve seen these moves before…” he smiles shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess you have… wanna see more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… babe…” he blushes as you go behind him, sliding your fingers and moving them down. You feel him shuddering and trying to hide his excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs nervously as you turn to face him, placing his hands on your waist and yours on his neck. You move your hips side to side, his gaze follows your moves, awkwardly, as he bobs his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slow song starts playing and you stay in formation, but he brings you a little closer. Some islanders scatter, taking a seat by the bar and watching you and Carl dancing alone, on the dancefloor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re almost in sync, as you take his hand and twirls him, making him laugh and relax a little more, clumsily twirling you after. You see, from a distance, Chelsea mouthing “Aw!”, wiping under her lashes. Lottie rolls her eyes but comforts her, by handing her a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn your focus on Carl and dance like no one’s around. It’s a rare moment to feel his warmth, so close. He looks directly at you and smiles openly, making tiny wrinkles appear on the corner of his eyes and dark bags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He buries his face on your shoulder for a moment, sighing, before speaking in a low voice, close to your ear. “I love you… too much to calculate...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goosebumps course through you when his voice tickles your skin. You place his hand on the lower of your back, pulling him even closer. “I love you too… Spock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile, you touch his forehead with yours, for a long moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Your voice comes out apprehensive, but you finish your sentence. “C-can we go and sit somewhere? We haven’t exactly talked today…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Let’s sit by the bar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you walk out from the dancefloor, the islanders take their places, and the dancing restarts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl sits next to you, handing you a drink. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… it is. It’s just… we are not gonna see each other for a while…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and me?!” he raises his brows, shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, dummy! The guys, the girls. Chelsea is gonna go abroad for the show. Rahim is gonna compete in America. Only a few of us will be here and even Priya is going away for vacation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawaii… which sounds fantastic!” you take a sip of your drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess...” He stares at the sky, as you speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go on Holiday as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he sips with wide eyes over the rim of the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… I know how much you worry about your company and all... But just because you were in the Villa, doesn’t mean you were on vacation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I had a good time relaxing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. But a trip, just us? That could be cool, don’t you think? Somewhere romantic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know…” his voice cracks, and he lowers his eyes to his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought maybe you could take a vacation every year…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every year!? That’s insane!”  he shifts on his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know most people do that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks in the distance for a moment, swirling the content of his tumbler, before turning to you, his voice with a low energy. “Do we have to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rest your back on the chair, sighing as your finger plays with the stem of the glass. “I guess not… if you don’t want to.” you chuckle awkwardly, looking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He notices your disappointment, and as you get up and go back to the dancefloor, without saying anything else, he keeps watching as you and the others dance together.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Elle Woods gives advice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>- This chapter is from Carl's perspective -</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” Chelsea gets a glass for herself and offers one to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh... thanks” you take it, staring at the content for a moment, before chugging the drink all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn… that bad, huh?” her eyes roam from Noah at the bar to the dancefloor, following your gaze. “What are you thinking, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing much.” You shrug, avoiding her eyes. With another swig, you grab a third glass, frowning from the taste of the alcohol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea stays put, but nudges you, a discreet voice that you didn’t know she was able to have. “Yeah, us girls know that’s code for “I am thinking about something”.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, we couldn’t finish our little talk there… you were dodging all of my questions. Carl... Let me help you.” she pleads, watching your girlfriend dance with werewolf Gary and sexy chef Bobby, now tossing her hair and shimming along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me ask you something, if you don’t mind answering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I’m here to help you!” she turns to him, perked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was it like to live with her, before I came along? You know… before Casa Amor.” You turn to see a confused Chelsea staring back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… I’m a little… I don’t know how to explain this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to talk directly to you. “Are you insecure, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I guessed right, didn’t I?” she shoots you a smug look, mixing her drink with her fingertip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just… she’s so out there!” you throw your arms forward. “She’s loud. In the middle of things… not too much! Don’t get me wrong. It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s her alright… so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I’m just… not. I really am not like that, at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. But you guys are constantly together, you’re boyfriend and girlfriend. What do you think is the problem?” her expectant eyes stay on you as you wonder your answer, gulping from another glass, breathing with difficulty right after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said something the other day… and I didn’t wanna believe you. But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was it, again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle nervously. “Y-you said I might be pushing her away a little bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” she raises her brows. “Ok… do you agree with me, now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I don’t know! I’ve been acting like I’ve always acted!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Very explanatory… however, I’m gonna need more than that.” She narrows her eyes, turning to face you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met at the show, and until a couple of weeks ago, everything was normal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Normal?” she squints, almost cringing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what exactly is normal in your life, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get up, go to work, come back, work a little more and then…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… hold up!” she raises his arms, taken aback. “When you go to work during the week, you still bring it home? You keep it going?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, like I said. Normal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hisses, frowning, now running her hands on her hair, like she’s measuring words and thinking too hard to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tell me what you’re thinking!” you throw your arms again, with even more frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… I’m gonna tell you what she told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That day of the grocery store?” you have an annoyed tone in your voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly…” she smiles, carelessly. “She told me you work too hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me finish. She’s not only worried about your health, babes! It’s more than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come? What could possibly be bothering her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… she’s afraid you don’t even want her around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words hit you like a punch, knocking the air out of you. “That’s crazy!” your face falls as you watch her having fun with Priya, bumping bums. “Of course I want her around! What is she thinking?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly what I just told you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, I have to ask… do you? Want her around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, course I do! What is she even saying? That’s insane!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea sighs, looking at her pink nails. “Is it, though? When was the last time you took her on a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A... date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. A date. You and her, eating… going to watch a movie? Just the two of you. Having fun together…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are together in my place all the time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but when you’re working after coming home from work, where is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… sometimes she watches tv or works on something on her laptop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. But you’re not together…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are in my house!” your voice becomes a little louder as you shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not in the same room, enjoying each other’s company. Like a normal couple!” she slaps her own thigh with a frustrated tone to her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I guess not.” You start to trail off, remembering the things you talked about, back in the Villa. All of the moments you gave her reassurance about a future together, outside of the show. “I told her I was ready to be in a relationship and take things further, but…” Your head hangs on the backrest of the chair. “I don’t want to sacrifice my work for that. She talked to me, she told me what she expects from me. I know she worries, but I’m fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bags under your eyes disagree with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what she said!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it must be true, huh?” she nudges you with a sarcastic grin, watching you slump even further into the chair “You need to figure it out if she’s really the girl you wanna be with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course she is!” you raise a hand to your mouth, slowly biting your fingertips, but Chelsea slaps your forearm, catching your attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me! Right here! You need to set your priorities straight! Carl… I’m sure she doesn’t mind your working hours that much, but if you wanna be in a relationship with her…” she pauses, looking at you and your girlfriend, fondly. “You have to be in a relationship with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am… I’ve been with her since we left!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea’s eyes roll as she waves her hands in the air, with resolution. “Ok. Let’s do this differently. Look at her. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gaze follows as she dances with Lucas and Henrik, twerking with Thor, laughing with the others. “I… I love her…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There! You have your answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?” you turn to face her, still looking confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your answer. You love her. The problem is…” she points to your head. “You’re thinking too much. You’re trying to translate feelings into numbers. But it’s much easier if you allow yourself to just…” she shrugs. “Well, feel them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what you’re saying is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I’m saying is… you love each other. And she cares for you, I’m sure. You wanna be with her? Then stop thinking. Stop rationalizing your relationship. You must think with your heart, not with your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but what happens when my heart doesn’t know what to do?” your eyes search for hers with desperation, your heart fluttering with fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mate… your heart always knows. Is your head that keeps getting in the way!” Chelsea pauses as she sees your trembling hands. “Just… don’t waste any time. If you do, you might lose her. You don’t have to change who you are. She loves you for you. But you gotta show her, somehow, that you’re serious, that you’re not going anywhere...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That... I’ll leave it up to you.” she chuckles. “I can’t give you all the answers! Just… make sure you stop pushing her away. She’s way too confident to let a guy do that to her for too long. And you know what the problem is, anyway…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I don’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea tosses her hair back, an annoyed expression on her face. Her lashes flutter with anger as she grabs you by your shoulders, her eyes set on yours. “Carl… I’m gonna spell it out for you, just once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can’t control her, so you do it to the one thing you can, and that’s work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts you short. “However, work is always gonna be there, babes! When you go home, spend the night talking, eating or laughing with her, work will be there in the morning. She might not be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So... what you’re saying is... I need to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to knock it off!” Your eyes go wide, and you lean backward as she speaks with a menacing look. “You need to get some perspective. If she’s important to you, you should show! Being there for her, the same way she’s there for you. I know it must sound normal to you, but taking work that seriously is hurting her, your relationship and yourself. So, you need to knock it off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… ok. I guess you have a point. I’m gonna try…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” she raises a finger, jabbing it on your chest, wrinkling your Spock costume. “Trying is not an option! You’re a champion, mate! Make it happen! You got her once, you can do it again!” her threatening gaze stays on yours for a moment, before pulling away. “Now, I’m gonna catch up with a certain sexy chef, and you… fix this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gets up from her seat, walking towards the dancefloor, crossing paths with your girl, who now, sits beside you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sips on a Bobbyfish from a tray nearby, her voice tender as she adjusts the holster on her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look… I was there, thinking… and we don’t have to do anything, it’s fine…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” you’re still startled by Chelsea's methods and slowly, go back to your senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About the trip. We don’t have to go. I don’t want you to change your routine because of me.” She plays with the rim of the blue sleeves, her eyes on her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s fine. Let’s just enjoy the party and go home. I’m starting to feel a little tired…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, no problem.” You nod, shifting on your seat as she takes a long look at you, noticing your flushed cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You' ok?” her voice is weak, but she does her best to disguise it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course. I’m ok…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright... let’s join the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting up, she walks towards the ex-islanders, on the lawn, but before she reaches the group, she deviates, changing her path to inside of the house, unexpectedly. A few of your friends pull chairs to form a circle and you stay outside, idly chatting with a few of the boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah stays in place, by the bar, watching a pair of scolding girls avoiding him, now sitting with the rest of the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary tells you a story about Bobby splattering spaghetti sauce all over the kitchen ceiling, but it’s hard to focus without her there, by your side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She comes back a few minutes later, with her hair down, wiping her face. Her eyes are a bit red, but she stays quiet and so do you, not really knowing what to say or do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” her smile is weak as she takes a seat between you and Chelsea, quietly settling down, gulping her drinks as they come.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Leaving home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gary and Bobby just can't contain themselves, and as alcohol goes in, nonsense comes out.<br/>You missed the weird talks, from the times in the Villa, and a Reunion with your friends wouldn't be different.]<br/>But after the funny portion of the night ends, the serious begins.<br/>Carl, now, knows what he wants and needs, and lets you know, before the night ends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s a serene night, the breeze hits your hair. It’s hard to disguise, but you do the best you can, so people won’t see the tone of red in your eyes. As you settle next to Chelsea and Carl, you take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the gusts of wind. It’s much lighter, once everyone is settled down, taking in the scenery, whether it’s the skulls scattered across the grass, or the candles, by the pool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few moments, none of you say a word, simply enjoying the clear sky, relaxing with your glasses in hand. It's rare to spend time with all of those people around you, and even more, to stay quiet, just breathing in and out, the night’s temperature dropping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group stays in formation, but no one is speaking. There’s complicity going around the group, despite the silent wars happening all around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lottie and Gary, Hope and Noah, and as much as you hate to admit, you and Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you brush it off. It’s a party, and you should let go of the seriousness, even if it’s for just one night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes roam on Bobby and Gary, and you recognize the look on their faces. Something is about to hit you all, and you’re not even prepared. “Oh, no… here we go.” You chuckle once you notice Bobby opening his mouth, followed by Gary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” Noah leans forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at those two.” you point at them with a grin. “You just know a weird conversation is about to start…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both chuckle, shrugging, but look at each other with confirming nods. “We were just talking about… you know… the universe.” Gary’s voice cracks in a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, most specifically, about what could be out there…” Bobby crosses his legs, resting his fist under his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucas’ face crumples into a curious look. “Are you talking about… aliens?” he brings his chair closer to the center, watching as the two boys grin at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bingo!” Bobby and Gary snap their fingers, Gary carries on the conversation. “It’s impossible not having life outside of our planet, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I believe there could be… maybe in another galaxy.” you say, fixing your hair, feeling Carl’s gaze fall on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no... if there were to be aliens, don’t you think they would’ve contacted us already!?” Lottie has a firm voice, Hope nods in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on… you can’t be serious.” Henrik starts gesturing. “You actually think it’s impossible to have life on a different planet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn to agree with Henrik. “Yeah, it’s not like it’s right there, in Mars… but maybe in a few galaxies away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what we were saying. Aliens is not such a farfetched idea.” Bobby looks expectantly at Lottie, smiling at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, most of the people that say they’ve seen aliens probably just saw baby owls!” noticing the general confusion, Lottie whips her phone, scrolling to show pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You all look at them in turns, frowning at their ugliness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Argh…they’re nasty looking!” Priya and Chelsea gasp at the images.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, they really are ugly little bastards…” you cringe at the photos, averting your gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see what I mean?” she puts her phone back in her dress pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You speak again, turning to Lottie and Hope. “Oh, but come on… we are talking about life on other planets… that doesn’t mean green little blokes with giant eyes… not necessarily.” your argument makes Bobby, Gary and Noah throw their arms, and the pastry chef speaks first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you! That’s what I’m talking about!” Bobby rubs his temples. “Just because it’s alive, doesn’t mean they have spaceships and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, plants are alive, but we don’t fear them, do we?” Noah nudges Lottie with a calm voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess not… but we’ve been to a few planets and found nothing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but there are some that have perfect conditions like oxygen, water. It’s really not that crazy to think some of them can have life one day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s eyes stay fixated on you, proudly taking in every single word it comes out of your mouth, followed by Noah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe already has…” Henrik laces his fingers, doing his best conspiracy voice. “What if they’re hiding a bunch of facts from us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would they do that?” Hope crosses her arms, smugly expecting an answer with perched lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Avoiding general panic, maybe?” You look at her, raising your brows. Bobby gets up from his seat, discreetly, going behind them. Henrik and Lucas look at each other, covering their mouths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You continue, speaking with a lower, sinister voice as you progress your thought. “Think about it. Area 51… military bases all around the world… Secrets of state spread across the globe… It’s not that crazy to imagine that maybe they already found something…” your eyes go wide. “… or someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tun, tun, tun!!!” Bobby hovers Lottie and Hope, who jump from their seats with a scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of you laugh as they rejoin on the chairs. Lottie slaps his arm. “Har, har… very funny!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… you just started this stupid conversation to scare us?” Hope is incredulous, hugging herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, but it was funny!” Gary high fives Bobby as he sits back in his chair, taking a swig of his beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You speak in a normal voice, looking at Noah at times. “No, but I mean it. I don’t think there are actually green or purple weird looking fellas out there… but plants, bacteria, or even invertebrate animals? Definitely.” you get up, going to the bar, right behind the group to prepare some drinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lottie folds her arms over her chest. “Maybe… I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of not being alone in the universe. I don’t get why people are so into it. It’s just weird to want that to happen so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… what about resources?” Noah glances at you, then looks at her, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean… water and food?” she looks confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You talk from the bar, pouring a few drinks for everyone. “No, more like bacteria and plants… that could serve medicinal purposes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah nods, pointing to you. “Exactly… can you imagine if one day they find a planet with the same conditions as ours, but in the early stages of evolution?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” Hope shoots a confused look at you, avoiding looking at Noah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if we lost some species of plants or bacteria that could save lives when that meteor hit Earth?” Noah says, getting up and helping you with the glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s farfetched!” Lottie has an annoyed tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl and you scoff. You lick your lips, awkwardly, before continuing. “Why…? W-ee lost a whole genre of reptiles and we’re still finding evidence of their existence, to this day! Why not other live beings? It’s not crazy at all.” you hand a few glasses, still arguing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah picks up from where you stopped. “And if other planets have the same conditions as ours, life could happen in the same way, or really close to how it happened here.” He hands drinks as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary perches his lips. “See… this is how it works: I come up with the weird conversation, you guys prove my point!” he high fives Bobby again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucas then crosses his arms, furrowing his brows. “And you know what’s weird? We don’t even know 10% of what we have in our oceans… why aren’t we exploring that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You, Noah, Bobby, Henrik and Gary tap your noses. Henrik speaks with an assertive tone. “Right!? There’s a freaking whale that can go up to 33 meters! That’s like 110 feet long… that’s insane!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the blue whale!” you and Noah say at the same time, high fiving as you grin at each other. Carl shifts on his seat, still quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucas’ voice drops to a low, conspiratorial tone. “It’s crazy… we have no idea what’s right under our noses. How can you be so sure about something that you haven’t even seen yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You point to Lucas, nodding. Bobby then speaks. “And can I just say? If we don’t know what’s in the water, how can we dismiss mermaids?!” he throws his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re joking!” Hope and Lottie give incredulous looks to each other, then to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why!? What’s easier to believe? A whale that measures the equivalent of almost 10 popular cars, measuring 110 tones or a humanoid mammal that lives under the sea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! Bobby just loves Ariel!” Lottie says, looking at you and Noah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aladdin!” you and Bobby correct her in unison, fist bumping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever! Disney is Disney…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby sounds offended. “You don’t wanna compare mermaids to genies, Lottie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?! Neither of them exists!” she throws a dismissive hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people around look at each other, mouths hanging open. Lucas whispers to you and Henrik. “Oh, it’s on… Bobby is turning red.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby opens his mouth, but you don’t let him talk. “You know what Lottie?! From all the crazy theories I’ve ever heard, “tea leaves” is by far, the most far fetched!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lottie gasps, putting a hand on her chest. “You take that back! Reading tea leaves is not theoretical!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…? We respected your “readings”, but you know what? Letting some dry shit in a cup dictate your life is pretty crazy, if you think about it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth hangs open and she clears her throat. Seeing the disaster forming, Henrik says out loud, with a perky voice, throwing his arms. “Ok, but unicorns, right?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>People around furrow their brows or frown, or both. They turn their heads staring at him, even you and Lottie. Gary pinches the bridge of his nose, laughing, and Bobby shakes his head, wild eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucas leans closer to his friend. “Are you serious?!” h and Priya share a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a horse with a 10 feet neck, why not a horse with a horn? Why is it so unbelievable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary takes a sip of his bottle, trying to stop his laughter. “But you don’t believe their blood is silver and shit, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henrik scoffs. “Of course not…” he looks at you with an innocent look, mouthing “maybe” and shrugging. You shake your head, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, everybody seems to be contemplating the night or thinking to themselves about the conversations that just happened, trying to absorb the crazy facts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a silence, keeping the calm atmosphere in the circle of chairs, where everyone sips their drinks, just enjoying each other’s company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind causes ripples in the pool water, blowing out the candles. Some leaves spin in harmony, one or two falls right in front of you, in the middle of the group, as the boys and girls look at each other, smiling quietly, hearing the sounds of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An owl lands on one of the tables, making its signature noise. Bobby looks at you, smiling, before whispering. “My owl calls are still the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, perching your lips. “Keep dreaming, McKenzie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back, with a content smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look around at the friends you made, your gaze falling on your legs and you smile to yourself. You missed the random conversation in the afternoons, the weird subjects and the debates that they’d generate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to forget how fun it was to just sit around and talk, whether about strange syndromes or the taste of colors. Or even when a few birds would be entertaining enough for you to make silly voices, to pass the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re lost in thought, as everyone else seems to be as well. The silence lasts for a few more moments, as your friends, and you, stare around the group, a few chuckling, others just smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You finally look at Carl, just to see him looking back at you, fondly. He grips your hand to kiss your knuckles, for Lottie’s disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea then speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, do you think dolphins talk to each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rahim and Bobby gasp at their drinks. Priya, Gary, Noah and you stare at her, with wild eyes, suppressing a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lottie sighs heavily, shaking her head and Lucas looks at Henrik to see his reaction. He shrugs, with a thoughtful look. Gary gasps, choking on his drink. “Oh, my fucking hell, it came out of my nose.” As he picks up a napkin, everybody starts laughing loudly, some covering their eyes, some covering their mouths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea keeps looking at all of you, in turns. “But do they?” she frowns when no one answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You get up, standing behind her, throwing your arms around her neck, kissing her cheek. “Oh Chels… I love you so much…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby raises a glass to make a toast. “We all do… to Chelsea…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everybody follows his lead, clinking glasses, including you. “To Chelsea…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After taking the sips, shaking their heads, some start getting up, scattering across the backyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea whispers to you, cupping her mouth. “But do they, though? Do they talk to each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You drape one arm on her shoulder, bringing her closer and nodding. “Yeah, Chels… they do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at you, resting her head on your shoulder. You stay on your seats for a while, observing your surroundings. Some people start getting ready to leave, grabbing bags and backpacks, already arranging rides or requesting cars on their phones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea locks up the house and everyone waits for their ride by the gate. One by one, your friends leave, saying their goodbyes, exchanging new numbers and addresses, until it’s just you and Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t say a single word during the discussion, and that can only mean one thing. He’s thinking. And he’s worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beam from the screen of his phone illuminates the deep bags under his eyes. He’s been looking tired for a while, but it’s even scarier how he looks, under that light. You tilt your head with a pained expression, and notice he’s visibly avoiding your gaze, trying his best to disguise his anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down, Carl knows the moment you shared before could’ve been the last. It takes more than a sexy afternoon, or a dance together, to fix things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps, now that he knows the real problem, he can look for a solution where both of you can get what you want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, as practical, and intelligent, as he is, sometimes, you can’t calculate the outcomes of a fight, or try to find the solution to heart problems with an equation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You need to feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully, he’ll allow himself to feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car pulls up in front of you, and he opens the door, letting you in, closing it behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not coming?” you ask, frowning in confusion, through the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I think you should go to your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your mouth to speak, but your voice is lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I should go home as well, and take care of a few things.” He puts his phone in his pocket, biting his bottom lip, a little uneasy. “I promise you. This is something I need to do… and I need to do it, alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As usual.” You mumble under your breath, looking straight forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m…” he licks his lips, leaning in the window. “I promise you. I will call. There’s a lot I need to do and… yeah…” he trails off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look straight forward, giving the driver a sign to go. It’s hard, but you keep your head still, not looking back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the millionth time, Carl watches you leave, without him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waves with a low hand, awkwardly, staring at the tail of the car as it follows the street, disappearing around the corner.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's been over two weeks since the last time you and Carl spoke, and the last image you have from him is saying goodbye, after Chelsea's party.<br/>Something about needing to do it, on his own.<br/>Unsettled, you wait for him to call, but after a few days, you can't help wondering if he gave up at all.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Over two weeks ago, Chelsea’s party had bittersweet moments. Between the fun you had to see the boys, and part of the girls, and dancing your troubles away, somehow, you thought the night would end differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day before was so pleasant, then yet, the party seemed to bring more issues to the surface than you thought, given Carl decided to send you home. Alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the entirety of these two weeks, he hasn’t called, and the hope you had about fixing things simply faded as more days came and went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re working on a project, trying your best to focus, and suddenly, your phone vibrates in your pocket, making you whip it out. A new message hovers the screen. “Carl: Can you come around 7?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of jitters invades your stomach, along with butterflies. It was unexpected, but incredibly soothing to receive a text from him. He promised to call when he could, and even though you’re not the type to wait around, you understand his side, at some level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your place?” you text back, a little anxious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s not too much trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’ve never been so unsure of anything in your life as you are right now. The thought of seeing Carl after everything that went down, the way it went down, baffles you. Given you’re more curious than nervous, you check your watch. “6:15”. You can’t wait, grabbing your car keys, and heading to a bakery, before getting to his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a quick stop, to pick up his favorite treat. You rush to drive to his house and pull up after a few minutes. He opens the door, almost immediately after you ring the doorbell, surprisingly looking well. “Hey, babe.” he hugs you before you even step a foot in his living room. “You came…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tips his head to the side, observing you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” you are a little weirded out, not even trying to hide your furrowed brows. “Yeah, I did… I… I even brought you something…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” he closes the door behind him, gesturing to the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s erm… it’s soda bread... your favorite.” You raise a brown bag, handing it to him. “I bought it on the way here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That’s so cool! Thank you!” he takes the bag, sniffing the fresh smell, humming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I know how much you miss Dublin, and I found a bakery in Central London… you can thank Noah for that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops, bag in hand, a little disconcerted. “Oh… Noah… Why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s the one who told me. Apparently his brother loves it! He told me when I went there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Wait… did you say you went to Romford? You were in Romford?” he puts the bag on the dining table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I went to see Noah.” You shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his brows but quickly composes himself. “Oh, that’s… great, how is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… he’s alright. I was worried about him after he broke up with Hope, but it was fun to see him!” you follow him to the dining table. “And Luke and Clover were there too! We had a game night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow! That’s… great!” he smiles weakly. “When was this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, last Saturday. I was alone at home and he texted, asking how I was, so… I just dropped by.” you take a seat at one of the chairs. “Thank god I did! It was so much fun! Luke is a clown and Clover is so cool!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s great that we live close to him, huh?!” he scratches his chin, wincing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! I can just… drive there. It’s like 16 miles. No big deal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That’s good… really good. I mean, he’s your friend, so… yeah…” he trails off, staring at the loaf of bread, freshly taken out of its package.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok, Carl?” you tilt your head, searching for his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I’m fantastic! I erm… got a lot of work done since the Reunion…” he bites his lips, uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was weird when you texted. I mean, you’re never home at this hour, especially on a Wednesday. Usually you’d leave around… eight? Maybe nine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… correct. But I thought, maybe one day leaving early wouldn’t hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… that’s… great… erm… do you want me to put the kettle on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” His eyes are somewhat lost. It seems Carl is trying to find words on any surface around him. “Sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rummage through a couple of cabinets, finding the kettle and filling it with water, while he grabs a serrated knife to slice the bread, serving it in two plates.  He looks pensive for a minute, before speaking again. “I wanna take you there again…” he takes a bite of the bread, clearly pleased with the flavor, but still awkwardly looking at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… w-where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To my office!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You frown, turning your face so he doesn’t see it. “That would be great, Carl! Yeah, I’d love to go there again! I just thought…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you changed your mind. We haven’t seen each other in over two weeks… I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at his lap, feeling uncertain of how to respond. “I’ve been working on some stuff… I-I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! It’s not that.” you keep pulling your ear, trying your best to lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I have been trying… and working really hard!” his legs shake as he speaks with nervous energy, dropping the slice on his plate. “And I know how much you hate that…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Carl. Don’t put words in my mouth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you do!” he gestures to where you stand, lowering his thick brows. “It’s clear that you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… I didn’t wanna get in the middle of your work, Carl. We had several fights about that, and to me, debating over this… it just feels…. kind pointless.” You shrug with a tired expression, propping your hands on the kitchen island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pointless? This is pointless…?” he points to the space between you, sniffing discreetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… no! Not us! But… what good is gonna come from fighting over this, over and over again? You know? I know how important your company is to you, so…” you scoff with a sad chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re important too!” he slaps his chest, looking at you with his eyes lightly glistening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gazes lock as you notice his tone of voice. “Carl? What… why are you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to think…” he stops himself, covering his mouth, suddenly rubbing his temples so hard, his bruised fingers gleam with blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You move towards him, carefully, snaking your arms around his waist, then caressing his hair. You feel his head resting, heavily, on the crook of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, it’s ok…” his chest rises and falls rapidly, and there’s a surge of heavy breathing coming from his mouth. He tries his best to stop stubborn tears. “W-why are you crying…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a minute to speak, pulling away, wiping under his eyes where his bags are as deep as they were, two weeks ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t wanna push you away… I don’t want you to think that my company is more important than you!” He walks towards the sink, propping on his hands, a little bewildered. His eyes travel around the kitchen and he covers his mouth, shaking his head as he pinches his eyes. The tears rolling on his pale cheek are visible from where you stand, and you feel solidarity tears coming down on your own face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise a hand to his cheek, and he leans on your touch, sniffing with more violence. His complexion gains a slight tone of pink as he continues pushing through his sadness, wiping under his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to look at you, expectantly, still drying his tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… you’re stressed!” you take his hands, turning him to face you. “Very stressed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long succession of puffs of air come from his mouth as he tries to exhale, a confused expression taking over the sad one. “I am… stressed? No… it’s not that.” his eyes keep staring your lips as you speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” you laugh, taking him to sit on the chair. “You are… Carl. Look at me. I know you must be feeling a lot of pressure with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… I’m just… I think it’s time to admit that I’m not…” he hesitates, frowning. “I don’t think I’m very good at relationships.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof, bit of an understatement there…” your eyes roll playfully and he shoots you a startled look. “Carl… I am. I am good at relationships. There’s no need for us to stay like this. I don’t want this for us. Days and days without seeing each other… I-I really miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face lights up. “You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I do. You’re my boyfriend. I miss talking to you… eating with you, sleeping by your side. But I don’t think bringing up your workload is gonna help, so I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you…” he scratches his forehead, uncomfortably shifting in place. “I don’t want you to feel like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s voice cracks as he tries to formulate a whole sentence without choking. It takes him a solid minute to finish his thought, still, as nervous and apprehensive as ever. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say things to me. Most of the time, you’re right…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at him, smugly smiling. He lets a sad chuckle out, now gaining power in his voice. “Fine, all the time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… I just… I just miss you, so much! I miss being around even if it’s just to watch you work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Even after I was being… you know… distant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Carl… there are too many… ok. Let me put it in a way that you’ll understand.” You adjust his hair, grazing your thumb on his forehead. “You need to take care of your company, yourself, your house…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” his eyes go wide as he gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… no! No… I can take care of myself. You need to free some time to take care of your mental health.” you smile at him, sweetly. “You’re feeling the pressure of a new relationship, that you weren’t even expecting… and I get it… it’s a lot. You’re not dealing with it… in the most proper way, but I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crease grows between his brows as he looks up at you, lost. “So, what should I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take the rest of the week off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?! – he looks at you taken aback, lowering his surprised tone, adopting a casual voice. “I mean… what now…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, shaking your head lightly. “Take the rest of the week off. Go back on Monday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s too long…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not nearly enough of what you need, but for now, it’ll do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brows furrow even more, along with his lips, as they curve into a pout. “So… I’m taking the week off…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! And I’m gonna stay with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, surprised. “You will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think I was gonna leave you alone, did you? The minute I leave, you’re gonna open some device and go back to work!” you jab a finger on his chest, playfully. “No, sir! Not this week!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You get up and signal for him to do it as well, and as he does, you start unlooping the buttons of his shirt, without saying a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…? What are you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking off your shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… w-why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the only one who knows how to give a wicked massage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A mass… a massage?” he chuckles softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah, let’s go to your bedroom.” You nod to the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our… our bedroom.” he says, turning around as he shrugs off his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right...” you smile at him, biting your lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once you open the door, you push him onto the bed, rolling him on his stomach with a grin. Rummaging one of his drawers, you find the bottle of ginger oil, showing him the label. “Is this one you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… that works…” a shy smile escapes his lips as he turns to see you, sitting astride of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drizzling a little amount in your hands, you warm it up by rubbing your palms together and spreading on his back. The sharp scent fills the room, as you work on his skin, sliding your hands, applying pressure with your fingertips. He’s visibly relaxing, his legs and arms a go little looser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His discomfort starts fading and you hear him moaning with relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is the pressure?” you ask, whispering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… wow…” he chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You knead his shoulders, your thumbs going on circular motions, moving in short strokes, going up and down on the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He adjusts his body, to facilitate your access, moaning a little louder. It’s tangible how tense his muscles are, and as you continue your massage, he buries his face on the mattress. The tension now dissipates with the touch of your hands, as they rub down, moving to the lower of his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you slide your hands up, to his shoulder blades, his weak voice pleads for you to stay where you are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right here?” your voice stays in whisper form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah… oh my… wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You see his smile, as he grunts, enjoying the massage, his shoulders touching the bedsheets. You spread your fingers on the mid-section, applying pressure, running them along the outlines of his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s groans are satisfying to hear as he melts under your touch, visibly relaxing more and more. A few minutes later, you notice he’s almost asleep and you tap him, letting him know it’s over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumps a little, waking up from a sudden nap, now rolling over to look at you, his eyes filled with drowsiness. “That was great…” he looks surprised. “Seriously…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do this anytime you want.” you lower your face, getting closer to his. “All you have to do is ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very generous of you... I feel I should do something to give back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile mischievously. “Hm… great timing, because I just had an idea.” you take off your top, revealing a black lace bra. His gaze lingers on your lips as you continue speaking. “We should take a bath.” You strip from your skirt, keeping eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bath you say…?” his eyes fall on the skirt on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah... and I think I’m gonna need help with these…” you look down at your own body, sliding your hands on your underwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-say no more.” Carl kneels on the edge of the bed, pulling you closer. His hand glides on the sides of your body, looking to remove the rest of your clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers play with the straps of your bra, undoing the piece, letting it fall on the pile next to you. Your lips brush on his chin, then along his jawline, finding his ears, to whisper. “Fancy going in now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shudders, biting his bottom lip, whispering back. “Not right away, no…” his hands trace up, grabbing your face firmly. His deep, blue eyes find yours, and as he smiles, he closes the distance between your mouths, kissing you tenderly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingers toy around his waistband, taking off his belt, letting his pants fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel the bulge on his navy underwear, and delicately run your palm on it, tugging them down as you grin. He smiles, but restarts the kiss immediately, with urgency, his tongue languidly massaging yours as he deepens the kiss, gripping your jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fabric of your bottoms graze on your skin as Carl slides them down. He grips your waist, pressing his body against yours, leading you into the bathroom, his heart beating fast against yours. You look at the tub, and then at the shower box, raising your eyebrows, turning the shower tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs. “I don’t think we would make it to the tub either.” He climbs in, offering a hand to you. The warm water dashes on your bodies and he rubs your hair, getting it wet. His teeth find your ears, and he nibbles it, speaking with a low voice. “What should I do now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just follow your instincts…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You whisper back, tracing your mouth on his neck and biting it gently. He moans, holding your thighs and lifting you. Your legs hook his waist, his tongue on your chest, swirling on each side as his breath feathers your wet skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks into your eyes, smiling, before he lets his body sink into yours, kissing you with hunger. You feel the pressure of his hips going back and forth, and up and down, gently, in a steady rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You run your fingers through his hair, licking his neck, as his grunts get mixed with your moans, echoing through the room, amongst the steam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You catch the vision of his back in the mirror, and you see his hips thrusting, going deeper, the muscles of his back and shoulder blades toning with every stroke. The droplets run on the outlines of his pale complexion, and you bite your lip as you see all of his muscles contracting, through the mirror. You grab his shoulders, pleading for him as his tongue works on your neck, sending shivers through your scalp and spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up tempo, grunting, his face buried on your shoulder as he leaves a lingering bite. He moves, roughly, gritting his teeth as he feels himself twitching inside of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The electrical waves of pleasure make you breathe his name. He has to stop himself from reaching his bliss, by slowing down, shutting his eyes. Your hips move against his, as you arch your back, shuddering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes heavily, next to your ear, luring a groan from you as you watch Carl, damped under the running water, hissing with pleasure as his muscular arms hold you, effortlessly. You observe his face crumpling with ecstasy as he whips his wet hair, gently rolling his hips, now stopping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m gonna…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know… don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath catches as he looks at you, feeling your weak voice speak into his ear, still feeling your hips moving against his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am too… don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…” He chuckles with a hiss, picking up tempo as you hold on to his shoulders, grunting his name. He tosses his head back, exhaling loudly, moving continuously. His hands grip your thighs, leaving finger marks on your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your bodies shiver together, his chest tightens with anticipation and you see him squinting his eyes shut. Your legs shake, as you hear him crying out your name, a throaty moan vibrating on his chest. You bite his chin lightly, feeling a smile growing on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…” a wave of bliss takes you, and Carl doesn’t hold it back, tumbling into his ecstasy as well. Your foreheads rest together as you breathe each other’s names, jerking with the energy from your motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Torso and legs trembling, yours and his, you smile at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips find yours, urgently kissing you under the water, your feet now planted on the floor. His hands run on the sides of your stomach, appeasing your heart once he touches your face, bringing you closer to hug you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He speaks with a firm voice as he pulls away. “Thank you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re taken aback, staring at him. “What are you thanking me for, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For making me feel like this.” His eyes fall on your hair as he gently scoops the strands to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like this…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Relaxed…” he throws his arms to the side. “Like… the way I feel right now. I do need help with this kind of stuff...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Among the steam and the dashing water, you can see a couple of tears on his misty eyes. “I’m glad I can help, Carl…” His sweet smile goes for miles, as you continue talking. “Now… there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” his gaze follows your hands as you pick up a shampoo bottle from the shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on… you’ll see.” You drizzle the cold liquid on his head, massaging his scalp, mischievously smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanted to wash my hair?” he shoots you a confused look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope… wait for it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You continue to work your fingers on his hair, pulling them up. Carl still stares at you, puzzled, until you point to the mirror, turning him to face it. “Check it out… I think it suits you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles, shaking his head. “A mohawk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah!” you laugh, adjusting the hair in a pointier hairdo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… that’s kinda funny…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinda funny? Look at you, you look like a cockatoo! It’s awesome…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I look pretty good… what do you think?” he strikes a pose, awkwardly flapping his arms on his sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, definitely a cockatoo! But you’re pulling-it-off!” you snap your fingers, luring a genuine laugh from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? This is why I was thanking you. I don’t know how you do it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s a craft behind it… but if you want, I can teach you a couple more things…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the sound of that.” his arms circle your waist. “But… can I ask you something? Please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice turns to an apprehensive whisper, another tear streaming down. “Be patient with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…?” you search for his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I can be hard to deal with sometimes… but…” he pauses, swallowing hard. “I do love you. Babe. And I’m still learning this stuff…” he exhales sharply from his mouth, his face crumpling into a sad expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” you run your fingers on his hair, undoing the mohawk. “I’m here… I’m not going anywhere…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips perch as he sniffs, weakly, rubbing his eyes, trying to avoid more tears. “Promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hold both sides of his face, grazing your thumbs on his temples. “I love you, Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, both of you sniffing as you nod. “Yeah. I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pull him back in the shower box, in silence, you let the water fall on his hair, watching as he shakes it, sending droplets everywhere. “Hey!” you shield yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already wet…” he gestures to you with a grin, more at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile, nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Random days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You have a surprise for Carl.<br/>And we all know he loves surprises, right?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You get to Carl’s house earlier than usual, already scattering your groceries on the counter. Between the ingredients he doesn’t have and the items he never had, you brought everything, just in case. You had an idea, a couple of weeks ago, as you talked to Chelsea, and she inspired you to start a tradition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl doesn’t even know you’re there, so you make sure he’s getting home, by talking to his assistant, Raf. For a normal person, it’s your typical Thursday. But not for you, of course. You’re dating Carl. And since he woke up at five in the morning, and according to our invisible watch, it’s eight pm, you figured he would be up to try something before bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the door, in the living room, dropping his keys on the console table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe!” you yell from the kitchen, making him jump, grabbing his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe?!” he cocks his head, finding you, behind the kitchen island, and a strong smell of tomato sauce and oregano. “What’s all this?” he asks, approaching you from behind the counter and pecking your cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Homemade pizza, baby!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what? Homemade?” his gaze runs on the counter, following the trail of ingredients. “You made the pizza dough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s amazing… I can’t even… not burn the pre-made dough. That’s really cool!” he sounds impressed, still taken aback by the number of items.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna try one?” you point to the untouched ball of dough resting on the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? I can be a disaster, you know…” he frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I remember. The Chicken Fillet Roll incident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” he trails off, reminiscing as his cheeks flush. “So… I think it’s best if you do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, if you can’t, at least, we’ll have a laugh about it. Don’t worry… it’s supposed to be fun.” You throw a dismissive hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, last time, I set the fire alarm…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, nodding. “True, but I don’t think you’ll set it this time, just by messing around with the dough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you really positive I can do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, absolutely.” you smile reassuringly, even though you can imagine Carl tossing the dough through the window and breaking the glass from the frame. “You can do it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cringes for a moment, but gets ready, by taking off his jacket and putting it on one of the chairs, on the opposite side. He, then, moves to the sink, washing his hands, and grabbing a dish towel, drying them, before standing by your side, resting his chin on your shoulder. “What do I have to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, feeling his scruff tickling you. “Ok. You’re gonna open it a little bit, like this.” You grab one of the balls of dough, throw it on the floured counter, stretching it with your fingers, lightly, going around it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl moves to your side, tossing too much flour around, coughing a bit with the excess. He clears his throat, grabbing the dough with uncertainty. “Ok, open a little bit. How much?” he’s still looking puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, until it gets to this size.” you indicate one of the ready-to-go discs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do that… I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolutely can, babe.” you kiss him on the lips. “After that, you can use the roll, if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands dance on the borders of the semi-disc. “You know… maybe that’s the type of encouragement I never had before.” he smiles at you, grabbing the roll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be afraid if it doesn’t come out awesome. Practice is everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Here it goes.” He, awkwardly, throws the dough on the counter, placing the roll on top of it, looking a little confused. With furrowed brows, he tries to follow your step-by-step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly, he’s lost, so you go behind him, leading his hands to stay on each end of the roll, placing your palms on top of his, applying pressure, so he can feel how much strength it’s necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guiding him, you keep this method, opening the dough, his face a few inches from yours, smiling. “Wow… now I know why people make pizza at home…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… there’s a pretty girl behind me, pressing herself and teaching me how to cook… that’s… really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes but can’t help a coy smile. Once he gets the hang of it, you let him finish the task by himself. The disc, completely stretched, stays in place, luring a triumphant, yet surprised, smile from Carl. He beams at you, showing off his results. “That looks good, right?!” he points to this work, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? I knew you’d do it… just… try to have fun with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s food… you’re not supposed to have fun with food... right?” he shoots you a doubtful look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an adult, babe, you can do whatever you want…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not whatever… some things might send me to jail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes go wide. “But you still can do them, you know… just gotta face the consequences.” you shrug, chuckling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, a little more relaxed, still neatly kneading his disc. You watch his shoulders at ease, as he has fun. “Look, when it comes to cooking, baking, if you don’t have a sense of humor when you’re starting, you’re gonna pull your hairs out”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles and looks back at the dough. “Got it…Now what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now this.” You throw the dough above your head, catching it with both fists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I don’t think this is a good idea…” his eyes go wide, a look of concern on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, I’ll help you.” you position yourself behind him, same as before, but this time, you hold him by his elbows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how do I stand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like this.” you cackle. “Alright, ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods and throws the dough. You move his elbows, so his hands reach a little higher in the air, catching the flying disc. His eyes go wild. “Did you see that?! I did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you did! You can do anything! Wanna go again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I-I think I need you to help me one more time, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, here we go.” You repeat the throw, guiding him to catch it once more, with his fists closed. “Damn!” he shakes his head with disbelief, staring at the flat dough in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Pretty fun, right?” You move to the counter, to assemble the pizza on the pan, distributing the cheese and then the oregano.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was so cool! I didn’t think I could actually pull it off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you know how. You need to do it a couple more times alone, though.” he raises his brows at you, but you respond with a reassuring voice. “Go on. I know you can do it, and if you can’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll laugh about it? he shrugs, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands throw the dough, and he involuntarily flexes his knees. It was close to sticking to the ceiling. “Oh no!” as it falls, he catches it. “That was… too high…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You giggle, covering your mouth, watching an embarrassed Carl make a second attempt, this time, throwing it too low. It falls on his chest, getting flour all over his blue shirt. He looks down on himself. “Yep… too low…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stifle a laugh, biting your lip, but there’s a tear on the corner of your eye as you desperately try not to cackle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Let’s do this!” he goes for attempt number three. A good distance between his hands and the dough, not too high, not too low. He catches it, moving his entire torso, but still, manages to stop it with his fists. “I did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you did!” you pat his back. “It’s fun, innit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, thank you.” he bows to you and an invisible crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, now that you perfected the throw, we need to assemble it. What toppings are you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm... mushrooms, cheese, olives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent choices! Here.” you drag the bowls with the ingredients towards him. “Knock yourself out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops for a moment, watching you focused on your own dish. “You know what… this is fun…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, right.” you nod, finishing your pizza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did this come from?” He puts the open dough on a pan, wrinkling the borders, desperately fixing them, but they look even wonkier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Making pizza on a Thursday? Why are we making pizza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had an idea, and I don’t think you’re gonna like it, but I’m gonna tell you anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what is it?” he looks at you, suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I thought we could do this kind of stuff once a week.” You shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a bad idea.” he spreads the sauce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On random days!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that could be awful…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Hear me out.” you go behind him, helping with the measurement and spreading of the sauce, holding his hand, moving the ladle in a spiral. “What I thought is, this is a great way of letting go of control a little bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to talk but stops himself. You continue. “You can take random days off, and we can do something like this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… let me get this straight. You wanna enter my comfort zone… and kick my arse out of it?” he turns his face to look at you, narrowing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much!” you grin, cunningly, going back to your own pizza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to the cheese, getting a handful and distributing on top of his. “You know what?” his voice is firm and determined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You sigh, preparing yourself for the denying, and the tiring way of getting out of things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a great idea…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“EXCUSE ME?” your brows shade your eyes, due to how much they furrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s a good idea.” he stops mid task to turn. “I asked you to be patient with me, and you have been really patient with me. I should make an effort as well, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what…” you trail off, seeing a much calmer Carl in front of you, your eyes narrowing with confusion. “Wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I told you… I’m gonna try my best. And it’s not even close to being a bad idea. I’m actually having fun right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your lips, with a content smile. “I’m glad you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what have you programmed for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, not telling. It’s a surprise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, every now and then, we’ll be doing some sort of activity, like this?” he nods to the ingredients.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… exactly. But you’re not gonna know when or what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs and tilts his head, looking at you. “Fair. I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would… isn’t it strange?” he sprinkles a few diced mushrooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what they call that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relaxing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “Never done that before!” he chuckles under his breath. “You know… ‘cause I’m always…” he leans in with a smoldering look. “Stressed out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snort, propping on your elbows, watching as he finishes the spreading of ingredients. His pizza looks beyond disproportional, but it’s a good effort, considering it’s his first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands reach for his pan. “Now, we need to put them in the oven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… yeah, no! I’ll let you do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair…” you grab both of the pans, opening the oven door, slipping them in. Carl stays put, watching you, with admiration while you set the temperature and the timer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles to himself, before you turn to make another batch with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> ~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a random Tuesday, the next week, you surprise your boyfriend, again. In the kitchen. Again. His eyes sort your grin and your posture, immediately pointing at you. “I know what this is… random activity, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bingo, babe!” you gesture to the counter. “Join me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing today?” he stares at the bottles, apprehensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cocktails…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cocktails… on a Tuesday?” his eyes go wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! Cocktails on a Tuesday!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… I work tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? We’re not getting hammered! Not today, at least… we’re just gonna spend time together. You are gonna teach me how to make Irish cocktails, and I’m gonna teach you some recipes I learned through my travels. And by travels, I mean… college dorm parties, on Fridays!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, kissing your lips. “Hi, by the way…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl joins your side, taking a look at the labels. “Alright. That I can do.” He picks up the bottle of vodka, Kahlua and opens the fridge to get cola soda, putting the shaker on the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna teach me, right?” you ask, observing, your fist under your chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely! Ok, this is called Irish White Russian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irish… White Russian? Ok…” you grab a shaker for yourself, eyeing him, suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch this. A shot of vodka, a shot of Kahlua…” he finishes pouring the booze. “Usually I put one and a half of Coca-Cola in, but it’s about your taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Got it.” you repeat the steps, the beverages going in your shaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you shake it like your life depends on it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both shake them vigorously, pouring into the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you need to top the glass with some dark beer.” he gets a can from the fridge, opening it, pouring it slowly onto the mixture. “Like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, got it.” you mimic his method, watching as the bubbles surface on the cocktail, then taking a sip. “Oh my god! That’s delicious!” you wipe your chin, feeling the sweetness of the beer, cola and kahlua.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? It’s great!” he sips on it as well, closing his eyes to enjoy the flavor, humming as he swallows it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright… this is a strong start!” You put the glass down, patting his shoulder. “Now, my turn. Pick a country, sir!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?” he leans in, puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pick a country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m gonna make a cocktail from the country you choose!” you let your tongue hang out with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow! Are you serious?! Any country?!” he puts both hands on the counter, a doubtful look on his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… let me think.” he scratches his scruff. “Ah, yes! Ireland!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You twist your nose. “Seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, Ireland is my choice!” he gestures to you with both hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re terribly evil…” you get closer to his ear, whispering. “I love it…” You see his body shuddering, suppressing a laugh. “Alright… Ireland… how about a…” you tap your fingers together, hissing. “Hm, Celtic Twilight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh… nice choice… go on.” he nods to the ingredients, smugly smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You assemble the drink as you narrate your steps. “First, two shots of Irish whiskey… two shots of Bailey’s… and two ounces of Frangelico.” you pour them into the shaker. “Shake this sumbitch…and pour it into two glasses, with some ice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth, raising his finger, but you interrupt him. “Final touch… cherry.” you put a big, juicy cherry on top of both drinks, handing him one. He stands there, observing you, arms crossed. “If you could be so kind and try it, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl takes a sip, and you can see a smile grow below the rim of the glass. “Damn it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, babe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… amazing!” he takes a second sip. “God… I wanted you to suck at one thing. Just one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can suck if you want to…” you lower your eyes on his pants, luring a crimson tone to his cheeks. “Say the word…” you enunciate your sentence, biting your lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s taken aback, swallowing hard and shuddering, clinking his glass on yours. “Ch-cheers…” he gulps the cocktail, not realizing it. “Alright. Why don’t I dare and do the same?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh… feeling daring, are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to pick a country?” you point to yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… do it!” he shrugs, looking at you expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… how about... Mexico!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mexico!? Seriously?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah… Mexico! Get going, Spock!” you nod at him, defiantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes, thoughtfully, before opening the fridge and grabbing a can of lime soda, then moving to the pantry, grabbing salt and a lime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have grapefruit soda, so lime will have to do it.” he’s surely enjoying himself, carrying the items in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why choose a cocktail you don’t have the ingredients for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whispers close to your lips. “Because I love a challenge…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, heartily. “Oh, please, do go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice… two ounces of tequila, a pinch of salt.” he cuts the lime, squeezing its juice in the glass. “A little bit of this and top it with lime soda. Now, try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hands you the glass with a smug attitude, but still smiling. You take a sip, a content smile on your lips. “Ok, this is pretty good! Even with the lime soda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be better with the grapefruit soda, but it works, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely does… a great version of a Paloma.” You take another sip, handing him the beverage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, my turn again to dare you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Pick a country, sir.” You fold your arms, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about… Brazil?” he leans in, defiantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brazil?” you smile at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yes!” he nods at you, moving closer. “I really, really wanna see what you’re gonna whip out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Easy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubtful!” he leans on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you watch me! My cocktail of choice will be…” you perch your lips, pensive. “Caipirinha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Caip…what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Caipirinha.” You shrug, turning to check the bottles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh…ok… go ahead!” he gestures to the ingredients, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have cachaça…” your eyes roam on the labels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” he raises his brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cachaça.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alcohol, fermented from sugarcane juice. Very strong! You might grow chest hair, instantly! But we don’t have it, so I can make a Caipiroska, which is Caipirinha, but with vodka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… this should be interesting!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squint at him, grabbing a glass, macerating peeled lime and sugar, adding ice and topping it with vodka.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm…” He takes the glass, examining for a few seconds then sips his beverage, humming. His eyes go wide with a scared tone to them. “Ooh! This tastes like juice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s the danger. When you use cachaça, it has a strong taste of sugarcane, but with vodka… you can lose the count of how many. You only know you’re drunk when you stand up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs loudly, taking a couple of sips. “This stuff is great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can prepare it with strawberries… even kiwi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know this one?” he places the glass next to the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two words. Exchange students.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, moving towards you, hugging your waist. “This is… really fun. I actually enjoyed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you did.” your arms circle his neck. “Your competitive self couldn’t tolerate staying away, could it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me… But I like that we’re both competitive, in the same amount.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshh! Same amount… sure, we are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tosses his head back with a light laugh. “Thank you for this… I had fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now… we can order some food, take a few more sips and you…” you point to his chest. “Can tell me how your day went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl stops you from moving, placing your arms around his neck, again. He rests his forehead on yours, with a deep sigh. “In a minute.” His arms hug you tightly as you feel his heart on yours. “Seriously. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to sit on one of the tall stools, placing you on his lap as he goes through the takeout places on his phone. You stay with your arms around him, watching a much more relaxed Carl place an order, before telling you how his day went. He notices you quiet, raising his eyes from the app. “Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” it’s impossible not to smile to yourself, so you don’t fight the urge. “I’m great.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Park ride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The most boring day of the week reaches its peak, and it still feels like you woke up a lifetime ago. It drags itself, and the boredom starts to get you. Not even your phone is enough to keep you entertained and the more you try not to be jaded, the less your tactics work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wednesdays usually bring with them that mid-week sorrow. Just a terrible feeling that the weekend is too far, especially when you have nothing to do. November fall is gorgeous, but only if you have someone to share with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But apparently, you’re about to be astonished, and for once, in the last few months, a good surprise waits for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Incoming call from Carl…?” you frown in confusion and check your watch. “Noon…?” more wrinkles of misperception appear between your brows. “Hello…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. B-babe.” His voice is apprehensive at first and you can hear a howl of wind on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Wow, this is a surprise. You never call during the day…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve got something to ask you. A-are you busy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, busy? For you? Never!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His soft laughter lures one back from you, and the image of him, blushing, comes to your mind. He responds with a tender tone. “Good, then. Come downstairs…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what do you mean, downstairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just put on comfortable clothes, sneakers and a coat... it seems the weather is gonna stay cold, despite the sun…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… first things first!” you chuckle. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“G-go to your office window…” he trembles his voice, but his tone is appeasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait…” as you slide the curtains, opening a crack, you see Carl, standing next to a light pole, next to two bikes. You recognize one from his house, but the other is definitely new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His outfit consists of grey sweatpants, a white and blue stripes shirt, a light, beige coat, completed with running shoes, that you didn’t even know he had. “Must be new, too…” you think to yourself as he waves, finalizing the call and putting away his phone, now folding his arms over his chest, a big smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Excited, you rush to your bedroom, getting dressed accordingly, then grab your things. With wallet, phone and ID in a small bag crossing your chest, and coat in hands, you’re ready to meet him at the front of your building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator ride was as sluggish as the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi…” he approaches you, raising his arms to give you a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Wow… you look great.” The tone of grey on his sweatpants catch your eye as you’re astounded by the image of a Sportsman Carl, waiting for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks flush violently. “Thanks… you do too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gesture to the bikes, quizzically looking at the pair. “So… what is all this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, his arms snake around your waist and he leans over, speaking in a low, but tender voice. Your hands touch his elbows as he talks to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember that “random day” thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I decided to do one, myself…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pull away from his arms, eyes wide. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hint of panic invades his eyes, teasing a laugh from you. He speaks with uncertainty, and a bit of regret too. “Was that ok? Should I just leave it to you?” he gestures to the bikes. “Is this a bad idea? Should I go back home…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” you shake your head, biting your lip from laughing. “No, of course not! This is fantastic!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m just surprised, that’s all… it worked! I’m legitimately surprised!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this is good?” his voice keeps its unsure tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, leaning in to brush his lips with yours. He involves your body in his arms again, one hand sliding on your back, the other, grazing and gripping your head, deepening the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resting his forehead on yours, he sighs, before continuing. “So, what do you say? Wanna go to the park?” he pats a small picnic basket hanging on one of the handlebars. “M-maybe have lunch with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wow… I’m… s-speechless… for once, you got me speechless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… good, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” you smile warmly at him. “It’s… perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl unlocks the bikes from the pole and you two hop on, pedaling to the park, not too far from your building. It’s a quiet autumn day, and even though the breeze is intense, the sun beams peek through chalky clouds. The sensation of relief and freedom speaks volumes as you turn your head to see Carl, pedaling, with his hands on top of each thigh, smiling as he pays attention to the light street traffic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His bags, every week, seem to fade more and more in color. His fingertips have lost the shine of the bruises, and there’s only a couple of spots that haven’t healed yet. Your heart flutters and you can’t help smiling to yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a new side of him, and perhaps was it too buried, but now that it’s resurfacing, you can’t wait to see what’s next. Carl, showing up unexpectedly, on a Wednesday, at noon, with bikes, food and a plan seem to be exactly what you both needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emphasis on both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s noticeable how much he’s been enjoying himself as well. It’s a rare thing to see him so relaxed, or at least trying to. While on the path to the park, he talks openly about a plan or two for his company, stopping himself every time, trying not to talk about work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, it’s ok. It’s Wednesday. You’re still on working mode.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but this is supposed to be a break…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your inner lip with a grin. “Baby steps, Carl… baby steps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A comforted smile spreads on his face as you advance. His intensity about work has been diminished drastically in the past few weeks, and he’s willing to learn about relationships. That’s all you were asking for. More presence and more willingness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you reach the gate of the park, you both secure your bikes on the rack, locking them in place. You hold the basket so he can lock his up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what do we have here?” you try to get a peek, but he stops you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… wait for it... it’s a… a s-surprise.” he grabs the basket, stroking your knuckles with his thumb, fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, ok… keep your secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both share a look as his face turns red. Whether from the exercise or the moment you’re having, his cheeks reach a tone of crimson. Your eyes roam on, taking in the surroundings. “So… which part do you wanna go to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking… by the ponds…?” he points to behind him, with his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds great… it’s actually my favorite spot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember.” He smiles shyly extending his hand for you to hold, following the path to reach the benches in front of the ponds. His fingers lace with yours, as you walk slowly to your destiny, breathing in the fresh, crisp air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Carl… have you talked to your family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I talked to them yesterday. Dublin is even colder than London!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No surprises there… but, how are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My granny is bickering with my grandad over something about the Christmas trip. They’re not gonna stay in the UK... apparently they wanna go abroad but can’t decide where.” he sounds bored as you were, a few minutes ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like any family… bickering about small stuff… but funny how when it comes to big decisions, they agree right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles. “Maybe that’s the secret? Bickering from time to time? But overall, having the same goals?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow…” you look at him, taken aback, slapping his arm, playfully. “Look at you… being all wise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I’m learning a lot lately…” he squeezes your hand with a warm touch. “A lot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you get closer, you can hear the ducks, and the ripples of the water caused by the flapping of wings. It splashes a few droplets on the seats of the picnic seats, right in front of the pond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit on the wooden bench, as Carl puts the basket on the table, excitedly rubbing his palms together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a visible smile, and a much lighter energy, he starts scattering the items from the hamper and you catch yourself looking over the water, seeing only a few of the ducks on the surface, their feathers being floodlit by the sunbeams shining through the grey clouds. There’s a clear separation between the light blue sky and the pallid clouds that form the horizon. A gust of wind suddenly happens, taking a few strands of your hair out of formation. As you fix it, placing a few of them in the back of your ears, you hear the greeneries from the trees, hitting the floor and the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ground is covered with a thick layer of crisp tawny and amber leaves. They snap as you draw random patterns on the dirt with the tip of your foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lost in your own wonders, you come back to reality, just in time to see a distraught expression on Carl’s face. He rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm, his other hand gripping his own waist. His mumbles make you get up from the bench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe? Is everything ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twists his lips in frustration, gesturing to the container inside the basket. “No… look at this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you peek over his shoulder, you see a great mess of red sauce in the glass pot. “Erm… ok. Let's open it to see…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No! This… sucks! I spent three hours making this! What went wrong?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pick up the container to assess the situation. From what you can see, it’s just a mix of what seems to be dough and sauce, impossible to distinguish what it was supposed to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing his sorrow, you place the container on the table, now spreading your arms to embrace him. “Babe, come here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried making something good for you, look what happened…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… you made this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Clearly!” he picks it up, sighing. “Oh, man! It’s awful! It’s ruined!” opening the lid, the smell emanates from the food, a clear herby and tomatoey scent fills the air. It does smell delicious. A few leaves of basil float on the red sauce and you spot a curd of cheese.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sauce doesn’t look bad. So, you tried to make lasagna, and it didn’t work… big deal…” you shrug, trying to minimize the damage, with a casual tone to your voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried making pizza…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits on the bench, container in hand, and as he places the glass pot on his lap, he sighs with sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your brows, taking a seat next to him, stifling a laugh. It’s impossible to, but you try your best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing your hand on his shoulder blades, trying to comfort him, a low chuckle escapes you. His head turns to see you, almost going purple as you suppress your instincts. “It’s ok…” you say, right before a giggle resonates. He looks at you, defeated, still holding the pizza-lasagna, as you rub your chin, covering your mouth, casually hiding the laughter under your breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe. It’s not funny…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know… I’m sorry…” you grab the pot, looking over the lid. “I mean… it’s a little funny…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter can’t be contained, and soon, you’re cackling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl looks at you, deflated, and buries his face in his hands. “It looks like shit!” you hold back with a fist on your mouth, but soon, a muffled chuckle comes from his hidden mouth. “It really looks like shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shut your eyes, letting the laughter take over, your shoulders trembling as you tip your head to the side, biting your thumb. “It-it doesn’t look that bad…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures with both hands, completely in disbelief. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?!” he gets up, grabbing the basket. “And if you think that’s funny, get a load of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl picks up another container, the dark green that peeks through the transparent pot is unsettling. What it was supposed to be salad, was replaced by withered leaves, way too humid to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my gosh! How did that happen?” you take it from his hands, looking at it, against the light. “It looks…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like shit, too!” he sits on the bench, lowering his head on the table, his cheek pressed on the surface with defeat. His voice comes out as a mumble. “This is why I shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen… It’s a disaster! I just wanted to make something nice, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingers run on his hair, startling him at first. He keeps his frown, closing his eyes and soon, he snuggles in your touch, holding your palm on his temple, pressing it down, producing a pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh even harder, brushing your lips on his knuckles. For a moment, neither of you speak. There’s not much to say, except maybe, “sorry” and “That’s ok”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… this is amazing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” he stares at you in disbelief, straightening himself. “What’s so amazing about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the food, that’s for sure… I’m kidding… sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles, resting his fist under his chin, a thoughtful look in his eyes. You continue, till grazing your hand on his temple. “But this… gesture… is really great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course. I managed to ruin our date, our lunch… what’s so great about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean... the fact that you tried making something for us… that’s… that’s wholesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I ruined everything. How do you ruin salad?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another wave of chuckles escapes your throat, and as much as you try to suppress them, soon, there are tears of laughter rolling on your cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, you’re crying. This is terrible…” he smiles, shaking his head even faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my days, babe… come here…” You grab the sides of his head, leaving a lingering kiss on the top of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not upset?” his thumbs stroke the inner portion of your wrists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not… you tried to make something for us, took me on a bike ride, in the middle of the day… Lasagna is not easy to make…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was… erm… pizza…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You share a cackle, and you continue, among chuckles. “Right… pizza is even harder. I don’t care that it didn’t work. I care that you tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I don’t know what went wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry, you did something that I didn’t expect at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t expect me to ruin lunch? Because that’s kind of obvious!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har… no. The fact that you did this without me asking you. You stepped out of your comfort zone…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws his arms again, shaking his head. “And now I’m uncomfortable!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pinch the bridge of your nose with a laugh. “Ok, that deserves a high-five!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you quizzically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, it was a great pun. Up top!” you raise your hand, and he slaps it with low energy. “If anything, you took time to make my favorite food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And failed spectacularly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still… you dedicated tour time, and I appreciate it very much. You can order pizza any day you want, but you, taking a morning off to cook and try something new, for us? Babe… that’s all I can ask for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips perch as his cheeks fluster. He watches you get up from the bench, now taking his hands to hoist him up. Your voice, sweet, continues. “You know, we could ride to Wilson’s. Have a beer and some snacks… unless… do you need to go to your office?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a moment to respond, his eyes wistfully looking beyond the pond. “Nah… they’ll be fine without me.” A cheerful smile appears on the corner of his mouth. “Let’s do it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. We can order some provolone sticks and a few O’hara’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, that does sound amazing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand stays hovering, waiting for him to take it. “Then let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twines his fingers with yours, grabbing the hamper, dumping its content in the next trash can. “How did I manage to fuck up the salad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe that’s my talent… you can toss a pizza dough in the air and I… fuck up salads!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, babe…” you shake your head with shut eyes and a smile. “It’s fine… everything is fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk back to the gate is filled with a much lighter mood. He manages to unlock both bikes, hanging the basket on the handlebar. You hop on, staring at him, absorbing every detail of a much more relaxed and perked Carl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. It means a lot what you did today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’ll never talk about it, ever again.” he raises his brows, looking at you expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on… it’s a funny story!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the boys would love to hear it! Think about Bobby’s face…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still… nope!” he shakes his head, smiling as you ride out of the park. “But seriously… how did I fuck up the salad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You toss your head back, laughing on your way to Wilson’s. “How about this? When we get to your place, later, we can make pizza again. What do you say? Up for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl stares at you with eyes wide. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I could use the laugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes but can’t help a chuckle. “Only if we race to Wilson’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch as he pedals, fast, advancing on his way to the bar, a huge grin on his face. There’s a warm feeling in your heart as you speed up, almost catching up with him, mumbling to yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dweeb…”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Drop by</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl's office seem to be the perfect place to have dinner today,<br/>since he's gonna stay for a meeting, with potential clients.<br/>A scare is about to happen.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>December rolls quickly, bringing not only the cold weather, but also the holidays. It’s the one time of the year where you don’t feel comfortable, since you can’t spend it with your family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you miss them?” Carl was trying his best to show solidarity, when you told him, back in the Villa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t think so. My parents made sure I was aware of their reasons…” You shrugged it off, but Carl sensed there was more to it. One of those rare moments where his heart was more attuned than his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what’s gonna be like when you get married?” his attempt to distract you definitely backfired on him, luring an instantaneous idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re thinking about marriage already…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what? No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised your hands, scoffing as you spoke. “Carl. We only know each other for a week. Slow your roll…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, b-but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think I brought you back because you’re chill about the whole marriage thing. Jeez!” you got up, not letting him explain himself, grinning and pleased, waving over your shoulder as you left him on the stretcher, clearly confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mumbled to himself while you walked away. “B-but I-I didn’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since then, you haven’t had the time to talk about marriage or your families. It never occurred, between the storms you were under, while arguing about his work habits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You decided to drop by at his office, to have a late dinner, since he was gonna have a couple of meetings with potential clients. “Don’t worry. You’re not even gonna notice I’m there.” You say, with a reassuring voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… not why I don’t want you here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “You’re gonna be so bored. It’s bound to last at least a couple of hours. We can see each other then.” The ding of the elevator, outside of his office, caught his ear, making him cock his head, to see through the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad.” You cracked an opening on his door. “I’m already here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, you imagined his reaction close to a volcano erupting with anxiety, but instead, a grin took place on his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I knew you were coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You step in his office, taken aback. “Yeah, right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures to his desk, glasses and utensils neatly arranged next to the plates. “You were saying?” he tips his head to the side, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… that’s…” before you can finish your sentence, an incoming call cuts you short. Carl presses the speaker button, letting his assistant’s voice resonate in his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Gallagher, the meeting was postponed to next week. They just sent a messenger with an apology, and a bottle of wine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips perch and his brows raise with interest. “Huh. Wine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shudder when you hear the word “sir” approaching him with a smirk, repeating the word, close to his mouth. “Sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat, visibly flushed. “Erm… could you bring it to me, Raf? Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Raf appears by the door, handing his boss the bottle and the card. “Is there anything else you need from me, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” he glances at you. “That would be all. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night.” He slowly nods to you. “Good night, Miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night, Raf…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another ding of the elevator, warning you of the last employee gone, you push Carl into the wall behind his desk. “Hi… sir…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love to mock me about that, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breath tickles his scruff. “What can I say? “Flustered” you is a gem!” taking a step back, you leave Carl to recompose, before taking a seat by your side, on the couch. He puts down the plates and utensils on the coffee table in front of you, leaving his desk surface clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chinese, huh? Nice!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole office is quiet, so much you could hear the cars on the street, or even a fly on the other side of the bullpen. Every empty cubicle, and the lights off, give the outside of Carl’s office, almost a sinister energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it always this quiet, after hours?” you nod to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… usually Raf is with me, if we have a meeting, but otherwise, it’s just…” he raises his head, taking a forkful of food. “It’s really quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. Is there any security in the building?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two. One stays on the garage gate, and the other stays at the reception downstairs.” His voice is calm and casual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he stays in the lobby. Does he get around during the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s part of the routine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink slowly, baffled by your boyfriend’s innocence. “Say… the cameras out there…? Or in the elevator? Who has access to the security room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl, without looking up from his food, pulls a badge with his picture, along with magnetic cards that give him access to said room, including his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… you? Only you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Another bite of food and he still doesn’t connect the dots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re the only one who has access to footage then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. We do have a specialist for the equipment, but the security room is only accessed by me. It’s just safer that way. I wouldn’t trust someone else to take care of whatever happens in the office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” you furrow your brows, crossing your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. A few months ago, before I even went to the show, we had an employee stealing some pieces of equipment. Nothing major, but he was pocketing some flash drives, mouse, the fingerprint pads in the archive. I mean…” he pauses. “We weren’t gonna use them, but they were the company’s property. My head of security at the time was… short temper. He wanted to give the guy a…” he trails off, looking for the words. “I think the term he used was “give him a scare.” Anyway. I decided to take care of it my way, and all security measures go through me, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Riiight.” You shake your head, still in disbelief of how naïve he can be at times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dinner goes on, Carl opens the bottle of wine with a gleam on his eye. “This is a fine bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only saying that because it’s an Irish bottle...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s a new industry. We’re getting there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles along with you, pouring the drinks, handing you a glass. You can’t help but observe his posture or how he paces to the other side, to grab more napkins. Since you and Carl decided to spend more time together, he’s been a little more relaxed, and even perks up at some of the activities you prepare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not all of them, let’s be realistic. It wasn’t at all fun having Carl bruised over a bad position of Yoga. But others, that involve the kitchen, the TV room or the sauna, definitely were right up his alley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because I’m in shape, it doesn’t mean I can pull off this Rocco crap!” he gestures to himself, going back to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe… I don’t think Rocco could pull off the Rocco crap…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You two nodded at each other, agreeing on, never again, do yoga together. Or separate, for that matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the past few weeks, you two have been doing the random day rule, and Carl seems to be enjoying himself, and sometimes, he will even come home earlier, already expecting a crazy new activity to bond with you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But with Christmas coming soon, you were apprehensive about the holidays. It was a touchy matter to talk about, but it had to be spoken. And even though he told you about a call with his nan, still, you needed to make your plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” you get up from his couch, grabbing more wine. “What about your… remaining family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My…” he chuckles. “My remaining family decided to travel… Besides, we’re not close anyway. It’s not like I spend the holidays with them or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” You cut him short, pouring more wine. “How do you spend your holidays then? I don’t think we’ve talked about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alone.” He sips from his glass, moving to grab the dessert from his mini fridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stay alone? Every year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, sitting down on the leather sofa, handing you a transparent container with a slice of cheesecake. “I’m used to it. It’s been almost twelve years now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look down, fiddling with your watch. “Right. I forgot about that part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes roam from the sweet to your face. “Hey. Don’t feel bad for me. It was a long time ago. I made my peace with it. Besides… we weren’t exactly close. No one in my family is touchy-feely and my parents weren’t different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs with a weak energy, before responding. “Nah. My dad was the kind of father that wanted me to be into sports. My mom, well… she was just as brute. A true Irish, you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to feel bad for asking, either. It’s just something that happened… babe. It’s fine. I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does seem like he doesn’t care about the subject, and even though you’re relieved for him, there’s still lingering questions that you would like to ask. But for now, you decided to set for dessert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I almost forgot!” Carl grabs your wrist, grazing his thumb on the inner portion. You notice his fingertips, almost in one piece. “We’re gonna have an office party, before Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” you take a spoonful of your sweet, immediately humming. “Oh my god!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. This is a good cheesecake…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, kissing your temple as he sees how excited you were about the bite. “Yeah. It’s from a place down the street. Konditor. Great place, by the way! We should go there some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! You were talking about the office party… and I was rude. Continue.” you swallow another bite, controlling yourself not to interrupt him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Nah, it’s ok. So… the office party… what do you say? Wanna be my plus one?” he puts a hand on your knee, his eyes, hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… office party you say…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it sounds a little lame, but we have one every year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… does it sound lame? Kind of. Am I going with you? Of course. However… I need to know.” You hesitate, licking your fork. “Are you gonna close up and take a break?” you look at him, disguising your excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze falls on yours, and he squints, analyzing every single micro-expression Shannon taught him, while in the Villa. “Well… yes. We’re gonna close until January…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put on your best poker face, but accidently squeal, cutting him in the middle of the sentence. “Really!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… it was Andrea’s idea…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love her! I knew I had a good feeling about her for a reason!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah... she told me we should close up and only a few of us would work on stand-by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me though!” Carl shifts on his seat, raising his hands, his voice, heartening. “I know you wanted us to go on a trip…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re taken aback, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… we talked about it at the Reunion, and I figured…” he searches for your eyes, a grin on the corner of his lips. “You’re up for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand clenches your heart and your lips curl into a smile, almost immediately. “Are you fucking kidding me?! Of course!” you throw your arms on his neck, hugging him enthusiastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know if you were… and I thought you’d maybe…” he shakes his head, stopping himself. “It doesn’t matter…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wh-what… I have to say… I’m impressed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impressed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course... you’ve been reducing your hours, resting on the weekends… I mean, you still work 60-70 hours, but that’s improvement! That’s progress!” you shove him playfully, a little too hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it is…” his gaze falls on his lap, timidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, you should give yourself way more credit than that… and you’re taking me to this party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Andrea thought it was a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. You didn’t think of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d get bored, but she said… I wanted to take you. I just didn’t know if this was something you would want, because let’s face it… it’s quite boring. It’s just an excuse for people to full around in the bathroom and drink like there’s no tomorrow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care about that…” you take another bite of the cheesecake, placing a hand on his shoulder, over his shirt. “And you planned a trip for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, taking your hand, brushing his lips on your knuckles. “Like I said before… you’ve been doing so much for me, I should try and do as much as I can... for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I mean… you’re doing everything you can. I can see that… and I just… I don’t know what to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stammer and Carl squeezes your hands gently. “Usually, I’d be one to stay and work on stand-by, but this year, I decided to leave it to the employees who wanted to do some extra-time. Good for them, financially, good for me, romantically.” He drapes his arm on your shoulder, resting his forehead on your temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what… “I’m impressed” doesn’t even describe what I’m feeling right now, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whispers close to your ear, kissing your cheek right after. “Glad you approve.” He then dusts off his palms, putting the plates together in a pile, on the side of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know… you look very sexy when you’re laid back like that…” you watch as he pours the rest of the wine, taking a sip. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up on forearms length and his watch glistening with the ceiling lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Really? You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You seem more in…” you narrow your eyes, watching his shoulders, squared. “Control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah… you… like that… I’m not even gonna describe the state of my underwear right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s face crumples with shock, watching as you put down your glass, uncrossing your legs. He closes the distance between you, on the seat. “Please, do… you know… describe… how your…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands grab the side of his head, biting his lip to stop his stammer, then moves to his ear, to whisper. “Why don’t you feel it?” you raise one of his wrists, delicately guiding it up your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His palms slide in your inner thighs and he swipes his fingers over your underwear, hissing as he feels the warmth of the drenched fabric, letting you take his lip in your teeth again. You moan his name as he touches you, slowly moving his fingertips on your sensitive spot, through the thin piece of clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at you as he does, watching your mouth hang with anticipation. “It’s very…” he swallows hard, eyes closed as his fingers continue to play around your panties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glide the tip of your tongue on his lip, your nail scraping his jaw. “What are you gonna do about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his thick brows, a dark and determined gleam on his eyes as he leans over. “Anything you want me to do.” A shudder goes through you as his breath tickles your ear, and he speaks in an even lower voice. “You’re the boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your desk…” you watch as he picks you up, his arms securing your legs around his waist. As he sits you on the edge, he stays between your legs, lips brushing your neck. You then remember, there’s nothing on the surface, shooting him a confused look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I wish I could do that “swiping stuff from the desk” thing, but turns out, I can’t do that to my things… they’re really expensive…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, babe… I understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My tablet, and my work phone, and you know how expensive my…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put your index finger, hushing him with a mischievous smile. “Carl…” you bring him closer by his chin, speaking closely. “You talk too much…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grin spreads on his face as he brushes his lips on the tip of your finger, slowly approaching your mouth to talk closer. “Sorry… it won’t happen again…” He presses himself on you, roaming his hands on the side of your thighs. “Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you asking or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter what it is, you know I’m always gonna give it to you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your thumb, taken aback, spreading your legs, slowly. “Then take a seat.” You nod to the chair behind him, pulling it with the vamp of your shoe. “Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps eye contact as he obeys your command, a timid, but insistent smile growing with every look you share.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take off your shirt, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He coyly unloops button after button, as you watch, crossing your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…” his voice comes out almost as a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not interested in my shirt.” He shrugs off the navy-blue piece of clothing, tossing it on the arm of his seat. His bare skin with visible hairs standing on end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. And you’re gonna do as I say… right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s gaze travels on your outfit before he answers, vaguely. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” You prop on your hands, tossing your hair back, uncrossing your legs. “My shoes…” you raise a leg, positioning your foot in front of him. “Take them off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no verbal response from him, just a grunt as he delicately slips out your heels from your feet, one at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands hold you by your ankles, and as both shoes fall to the floor, his lips touch your shin, sending a shudder on your spine. You smirk, recoiling your leg, letting Carl hang, biting his lip with frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say you could kiss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I’m gonna have to punish you.” Your smirk grows as you spread your legs, pulling the chair closer. You plant your feet on the floor, looking down at him, smugly. Your fingers run on his hair, pulling it lightly. “Do you wanna touch me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods under your grip. “You have no idea how much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your lip, guiding his hands on the sides of your hip, lifting your skirt so his fingers hook your underwear, tugging them down. Carl exhales sharply from his mouth as he watches your bottoms fall slowly, leaving a trail of hairs standing as they graze your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at you, waiting for a new command, eyeing your torso. Your finger touches your knee, and you prop yourself on the desk, with a domineering voice. “Here… I’m gonna touch, and you’re gonna kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you think this is a punishment, you’re terribly mistaken.” He approaches your leg, his eyes still fixated on your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see.” His lips brush on your knee with a lingering kiss. You move your fingertip a little up, and he follows. “Good… very good.” The trail continues moving upwards, to your thigh, and he obeys your command, right behind. You trace a line, inwards, and his mouth touches the inner portion of your leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grunt vibrates on you, luring a gasp as he leaves another lasting kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows, his mouth now moving towards your hip bone. You feel his warm breath tickling your sensitive spots, sending a shiver on your body. Your fingers run on his hair, pulling it lightly, guiding him to stay in place. “Right here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this what you want?” He shoots you a mischievous look, before lowering his lips on your drenched skin, settling down in one spot, swiping his tongue on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You firm your grip on his scalp, tipping your head back as he deepens the touches of his mouth, moving passionately as he pleases you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands stay on each side of your hips, digging your muscles while his face stays hidden. His tongue explores the layers of your skin, causing your heart to beat faster with every trace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You mumble his name, tossing your hair to the side, caressing his forehead as he buries himself even deeper in you, groaning as he licks you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice cracks as you feel a crest building under your waistline, his tongue firmly stroking as he grips your waist, moving your hips against his own face. With a firm tone, he pulls away quickly. “Move or I’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I was the boss…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirks, going back, intense waves of pleasure increasing as he swipes his tongue more and more. You move your hips, now matching his pace, rolling them as you feel the sparks on your skin, pleading under your breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your moans start echoing through the bullpen outside, the empty office, and Carl, making your adrenaline spike. You grab the edges of his desk, moving back and forth as he continues to pleasure you, now faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Butterflies fly away in your stomach, the crests building into bliss as he picks up tempo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cry out his name, over and over, a smile reaches his eyes as he looks up, relentlessly licking you. Your hands clasp his head, and you let out a loud moan, moving as your legs tremble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waves crash and your eyes roll with ecstasy, Carl’s fingers now appeasing your sensitive skin, keeping the electrical waves crashing as he gets up, whispering in your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t stop moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hips dance on his hand, prolonging the sensation of your bliss. He watches, fascinated, your grip on his shoulders, moaning nonstop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit…” You smile, twitching on his touch, now grabbing his wrists. “Shit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze turns smoldering as he bites his bottom lip, still caressing you with his mildly cold hands. “Did I ever tell you you taste amazing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, your head spins as your mind returns, slowly, from the dimension you just went, under Carl’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what to do next… babe.” He looks at you expectantly, amused by your lack of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… right…” you come back from the rush, pushing him to sit on the chair. “This is what you’re gonna do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what… what are you doing?” he’s confused, but there’s a smile lingering as he observes your hands grazing on his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m returning the favor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s taken aback, watching you sit on your knees, unbuckling his belt as he takes a deep breath. The orange scent from his body wash is even stronger the closer you get to his stomach, tossing the leathery piece to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands move fast on the zipper of his pants, tugging his bottoms down, hungrily. You toss them into a crumple of clothes on the side of the couch, now grazing your palms on the top of his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips follow a trail on his stomach, gently touching his bare skin, moving upwards, to his chest. He exhales sharply as you find his neck, his cologne so intoxicating, you grunt. “I love your smell, babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, gripping both sides of your head, his lips brushing on yours, speaking through the kiss. “And I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feather his wrist with your fingers, slowly pulling away, opening your eyes to see him, mirroring your moves. For a moment, you lock gazes, a sense of peace in your heart as his healed finger tips caress your jaw. “I love you too, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You adjust yourself on your knees, tenderly kissing his thighs and lowering your head on his lap. Carl gasps as you take him in your hand, the tip of your tongue playing with his length, slowly taking him whole, wrapping your lips around his bare skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head moves in up and down motions, savoring every moan that spills from him, at times, a surprised laugh with your skills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel his hands scooping your hair to the side, so he can see you better, now winking at him, showing off as you fasten your sucking motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a long hiss, his thighs shuddering under your forearms, as Carl loses control of his groans, calling out your name through his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He resists the urge of pulling you up, unsure of what to do, once the intensity of your mouth-work clouds his judgement. “Oh…” he gasps over, and over, watching you take him in your mouth, your inner cheeks softly grazing on his tip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his brows with anticipation, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “Please, stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head with your mouth full, but he insists. “Please…” he tips his head back, rubbing his eyes, holding back as you continue to suck, now picking up your tempo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe… please…” he laughs with nervous energy and you stop, giving one last longing lick, before getting up, still with a grip around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands grip your thighs, lifting you to stay on top of his lap, quickly adjusting himself on his seat. “You. That’s all I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tiny wrinkles appear on the corners of his eyes as he smiles widely, his gaze travelling on your lips, before he catches them in a passionate kiss. Shivers run down your spine as his hand grips your throat, the kiss deepening with every breathless moan from you and him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit astride of him, comfortably, the warmth of his skin meeting yours as your hips move closer. You let yourself lower onto him, his lap rising to meet you halfway, both of your chests vibrating with grunts as you slowly move together, skin on skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s eyes shut with urgency as he feels your warmth around him, leaning his body on the backrest. You gyrate your hips, holding on to his thighs, your hair cascading on your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glide your fingers on his upper arms, muttering his name under your breath. You hear his voice, low, speaking to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use your nails…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grips the side of your head, biting your lip, talking through a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use your nails.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scratch his chest, lightly, teasing a grunt from him as he watches your hands moving down. “Like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deeper…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingers move with more intensity, your nails scraping harder. “Like this?” He nods, and impulsively, gets up from the chair, holding you by your thighs and pressing you on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Outside…” you whisper with a mischief tone to your voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl smiles, a little apprehensive. “A-are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… fucking positive.” You capture his lips in a kiss, feeling the light breeze as he leads you to the bullpen, pushing you against a wall close to the elevator. You toss your shirt over your head, and his fingers fumble with your skirt, tossing it to the side. “Perfect…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands find the back of his head as he lifts you. Only one light goes up, right next to your spot. He grins, shaking his head as his eyes narrow. “You’re crazy… I love it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now Carl… whatever happens… please, don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t respond verbally, sinking into you again, rolling his hips with a groan. His arms’ muscles bulge as he holds you wrapped around him. You grip the back of his head, nipping his ear as your moans echo in the empty stations, mixing themselves with its reverberations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sore feeling of the pressure starts growing under your waist. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and with a lingering bite on your shoulder, he hisses your name, over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s head hangs back as he feels you trembling under his touch. Your torso twitches and you feel a knocking down wave, losing the grip of your hands. Now, your head hangs back, every peak of your body shivers with his rough technique.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart races and you feel a slow growing ecstasy take you. You cry out his name, clasping his head, jolts of energy rippling through your scalp. “Fuck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out a deep, loud moan as your bliss starts fading. He slows his pace, to check on you, bundling the strands of loose hair on your face to the side. “Babe…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tip your head up with a laugh, your mind rushing back. “Y-yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok?” he chuckles, still rearranging your hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I’m…” you take a deep breath, opening your eyes, to see him, searching for your eyes. “I’m great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, biting his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In fact… I think I should just stand.” You plant your feet on the ground, turning around, slowly raising your hands to push the wall, rearing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” his brows furrow, and he goes breathless. “You have no idea how much I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but I do. I really fucking do.” Your hips meet his and you adjust yourself, placing both of his hands on the sides of your body, now moving against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god…” He tosses his head back, digging his fingers on your skin with a firm touch. “Fuck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl. Always the composed one. But not today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You guide him to sink into you even deeper, and he rocks his hips, bending over your back, his mouth on your ear. His breath brushes your neck, and you can’t help but ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull my hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t hesitate, running his finger tips in the roots of your hair, pulling it lightly, but firmly, now kissing your shoulder, hissing close to your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel amazing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel amazing too… so… fucking… amazing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teeth graze on your shoulder as he rocks his hips, his stomach muscles contracting with every stroke. He nuzzles in the back of your head, his warm grunts resonating with yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calls out to you, but you can’t respond, arching your back even more, to move with him, in sync. He flexes his knees, still in the crook of your neck, pleading for you as you pick up tempo, moving back and forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your foreheads are slick with sweat, and he lets go of your hair, now grabbing both of your shoulders, your hands firming his grip. A shudder courses through your body and your torso trembles. His arm snakes its way to hold you, crossing your chest so you won’t fall. Heart fluttering and crests building, you bang your fist on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your leg shakes as you feel yourself almost tumbling into bliss. “Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His out of breath voice comes out cracking. “Y-yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cum with me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… yes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods rapidly, letting go of his control, both of your moves rough, writhing against each other. You bite your lip from screaming, but he doesn’t hold back his loud grunts, now followed by yours as you melt together, dripping on each other’s legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rush of electricity sends you into a spiral as his mouth finds yours, his torso covering the outlines of your back, you both feeling your ecstasy, still thrusting your hips in sync.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voices drop to whispers as you try to catch your breath. He chuckles softly, hugging you from behind as he showers you with kisses, from your shoulders to your temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my god! Mr. Gallagher!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud, startled voice echoes from the side of your spot. Walter, the night shift guard stays by the elevator door, eyes wide, completely in shock. Carl instinctively shields you from the guard’s eyes. “Walter!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corpulent guard waves his finger in the air, speaking with anger. “Shame on you! Shame on you, Mr. Gallagher!! What would the missus say?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise a hand, bashfully, from behind Carl’s naked body and with a sweet, timid voice, you speak. “Hey, Frank… it’s me… missus…” your chuckle is awkward as you cock your head from Carl’s protective body. “Hello there… how is your night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of here, Walter!!” Carl gestures for him to enter the elevator, imitating Chelsea’s motions to shoo a person. “Go on!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed, Walter covers his eyes, walking backwards into the elevator. “Sorry… sorry… I was just about to do my rounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a rat’s ass! Get the fuck out of here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With uncomfortable mumbling, he finally reaches the elevator, pushing the buttons, excessively, to ride down as quick as he can. The doors slide close with a chime and you turn to Carl, stifling a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, his forehead resting on yours. “Don’t… just… just don’t…” a nervous chuckle escapes him before he can hold it in. “Oh, my days… this is gonna be…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The subject of the Christmas party… sir!” you watch, amused, as Carl shakes his head, facepalming. Your voice perks up. “Don’t worry… he didn’t see any of me, I don’t think… however… he did see this.” You slap his ass with a satisfying smack. He jumps, startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You strut away, tossing your hair back and winking at him, walking back to his office, wearing nothing but a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubs his recently red skin, his voice dropping to a mutter as he stays hypnotized, watching you leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn…”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>check the character's sheet i made for andrea: <a href="https://ravenadottir.tumblr.com/post/642284781972996096/original-characters-andrea-who-are-they-carls">andrea's data</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Holidays</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By now, you’ve met a lot of people that work in Carl’s company, and the first of them was Andrea. She has been his right-arm as the fine manager she is. They’ve been working together since the beginning, and according to Carl “I didn’t even interview anyone else. It was Andrea from day one. She was the first and only candidate I ever talked to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s also the one helping you decrease Carl’s weekly hours, by kicking him out of the office after six. And it doesn’t matter what happens, she’s got his back. Andrea is definitely the type of manager that walks in and the conversations die, one by one. Her assertive dark eyes and perfect scowl scare even you, sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way to the party, in the car, you’re adjusting your outfit and hair so much, even Carl asks if everything is alright. “Yeah… I’m… ok…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t, and blatantly lying like that didn’t fly. Not even with him. “It’s just… I don’t know everyone, and there’s gonna be clients there, too. I… I wanna make a good impression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, in that case, hold on.” He holds your hands, placing them on your lap, and moves to adjust a strand of your hair behind your ear. “There.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t… Carl! You didn’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans over your ear with a smile as he whispers. “Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help a chuckle while your eyes roll, and even though your cheeks flush, you look through the car window, avoiding his eyes. “Stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arriving at the party, you’re greeted by a perky Andrea, which is surprising, dressed in a dark red suit and black heels. “I’m so glad you decided to come!” her curly, dark blonde hair stays in a flawless updo as she shakes your hand, vigorously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad too! The office looks great…” You look at your surroundings, noticing the desks adorned with colorful garlands, snaking their way up the workstations. There’s a peculiar number of reindeers and Santa figures, spread across the corners of the bullpen. The twinkling red noses scare you more than the empty and quiet office, at night. It’s way more than you thought, and more than Carl would approve, but then again, when it comes to parties, he lets the committee take care of every decision, and they decide to ignore Carl’s lack of Christmas spirit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tree, however, is gorgeous. Tall and majestic, in the middle of the floor, its branches ornamented with faux snow, flaking on top of the leaves. Red and white glass balls hanging on every extremity, connected to the lights. You walk in, noticing there’s even faux snow on the ground, the shavings forming a pathway to the tables, covered with all traditional foods from the Holidays and the bottles of liquor, for people to serve themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea guides you and Carl to the booze table, gesturing to it, excitedly. “Come this way… this is the alcohol station… which means…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This party is about to start…” you complete her sentence, making her smile. Carl, on the other hand, has his hands in his pockets, wincing on his feet. “Hey…” you nudge him with a shy smile. “Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah… sure… I’m ok…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it one more time and I’ll believe you…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… I-I’m great. I just need to talk to Andrea for a couple of minutes. Is that cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure… go ahead. I’ll be here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch as he takes Andrea down the hallway, disappearing into his office, closing the door, and the blinds, behind him. Just then, a tall, slender man approaches you, followed by two girls. He wears the ugliest Christmas sweater you have ever seen. It lights up as they approach, gingerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi… I’m Eric. These are Filipa and Janet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Filipa and Janet? Hi, nice to meet you guys.” You shake hands with the three of them, noticing Janet, a very thin, very well put together woman. Her blonde, straight hair lies delicately on her broad shoulders. She’s the most uptight from the three employees, shifting in place, swirling her drink every ten seconds. As for Filipa, she’s a little shorter than you, intense dark hair and olive skin tone skin. Thick glasses make the final look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look amazing, by the way! That dress…” Filipa whistles. “But then again… I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t pull off.” She laughs awkwardly, looking for support from her co-workers. They chuckle along, clearly by obligation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thanks…” you look at your dress beneath the coat. “You guys too. I can see everyone clean up pretty well around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the office party is definitely the time to do it, right?” Eric looks at the girls, the three of them nodding, but approaching the edge of the table, to talk closer to you. “So, can we ask you a question?” Eric serves the girls’ cup, trying his best to look casual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, shoot.” You shrug, amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you and Carl… like… serious? Like serious, serious…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your brows. “Erm… what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t wanna pry! It’s just…” he clears his throat, throwing a dismissive hand. “He’s been really different the last few weeks... and we thought…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cut him short. “What do you mean by different?” your eyes narrow as you stare at them, curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he kind of… he’s been acting strange.” Filipa responds, taking a sip of her drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not strange, Filipa! Just… unusually.” Janet takes a step closer, lowering her voice. “You see, Carl was always so serious, and now he’s sort of…” her eyes go wide as she’s interrupted by a stern Andrea clearing her throat, and the three of them take several steps back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Carl puts his hand on your waist, a smile on his lips, eyes running on the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, boss! Just talking to the missus…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what a catch, huh!” Janet nudges Eric and quickly composes herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wink at them. “You’ve got some great people working with you, here, babe.” Your line doesn’t distract Andrea from giving them an imposing look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs a drink to offer to you. “That’s very inappropriate. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no! please… it’s fine. They are making me feel welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure hope they’re not nagging you.” She shoots them a look and they quickly scatter, waving uncomfortably over their shoulders, walking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa! That’s a powerful look I wanna learn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs, squeezing your arm. “Hm… I’m a natural, I guess… I’m gonna check on Raf. You two have a great time and don’t forget to let me know when you leave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl nods to her, and she walks away, not too far from the snack table, across the room. You turn to see him, with a silly smile on his lips. He squeezes your waist with a low voice. “So… I know. It’s nothing compared to the parties at the Villa, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… it’s great, babe. Really. Besides, I’m predicting it doesn’t take too much alcohol for people to rage in here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got that right…!” he sighs, giving your cheek a peck, but is interrupted by a couple of men approaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… you’re really ought to kill everyone in this party, huh, honey?” the brunette, older man takes a look at you, then at Carl, extending his hand with an amicable smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… babe. This is Randall. He’s one of our most important clients. And this…” Carl gestures to a shorter man, about the same age as Carl, wearing a dark purple suit. “… is Drake, Randall’s husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi! Nice to meet you guys!” you put on a smile, noticing Drake still staring you up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s fitter than she looked at the show! And that’s saying much!” he gets closer, air kissing you, reminding you of Priya, on the first days of the Villa. “Hi, darling! It’s good to meet the wife.” Carl, Randall and you stare at him, eyes wide, making him clutch his chest in shock. “What? What did I say?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His husband leans over, whispering. “Oh, babe. They’re not married…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drake blurts out his words in response, gesturing to you and Carl with a genuine smile. “Could’ve fooled me! Look at them…such a cute couple! Besides, it would be insane not to lock this one down.” He points to you, nudging Carl with a grin. “It’s true! I bet there are tons of fit men, just waiting…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, that’s enough…!” Randall laughs, shaking his head, followed by Carl and you. He then takes Drake’s hand, taking him away, shooting an apologetic look at you two. “We’re just gonna embarrass Andrea, for a change…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck with that…” you nod at him with a chuckle, shaking your head as you turn to Carl, who looks pensive as the couple leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Babe? Babe?” You snap your fingers in front of him. “Babe?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t respond immediately, his hands in his pockets and his eyes frantically staring at every corner of the bullpen, completely out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…? Oh, hey… what’s up?” he’s startled, but comes back to reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you went on a trance there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did?” he looks at you, blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit… are you ok? Do you want some water?” you chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be great…” he nods to the hallway. “Erm… let’s… let’s go to my office... we can talk there...” he swirls his finger in the air. “Too many lights…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns on his heel, not waiting for an answer, you in tow. As you both step in, he closes the door behind him, from prying eyes or ears. As he takes a seat on his chair, you adjust yourself, propping your hands on his desk, your hips on the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh… this reminds me of something…” your observation lures a violent flush on his cheeks and a brief shudder. “So… what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up, a little shaken, and tips his head back with a sigh. “Erm, how are you finding the party so far?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshh… it’s great. I’ve been here for ten minutes and people think we’re married. I mean, didn’t they watch the show?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… they did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Hm… any remarkable comments on the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl laughs nervously, rubbing his forehead. “Well… I’ve heard several comments…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My, my… do tell. What’s the goss…?” your eyes go wild as you rub your palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles sadly, resting his cheek on his fist. “I heard you’re one of the fittest girls in all seasons…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, checks out. Go on…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He licks his lips. “I heard people saying you’re definitely the hottest from all seasons…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, it checks out!” you giggle. “What else?” Carl seems a little deflated, fiddling with his watch as he lowers his head. “Babe? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he raises his eyes to look at you with a pained expression. “I also heard… someone saying… you’re out of my league…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sigh escapes his throat. “I mean… I get it. You’re so…” his eyes roam on you with admiration, as he takes in your image, exhaling sharply from his mouth. “And then there’s me…” he shrugs with low energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means… I get it. You’re this amazing, fine woman, w-who knows what she wants, and then… you’re with a guy that doesn’t exactly do everything right… trust me. I’ve heard this before. And it’s not gonna be the last time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no… hell no.” you shake your head, bringing his chair closer, cupping his chin. “Carl. Whenever you heard that before… just… I really hope you know how much you’re worth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s ok, I get it…. I’m a nerd… I’m clumsy and kind of an introvert. I try…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You listen to him, carefully picking up every word. His voice lowers its volume. “I try my best. I know people like making fun of me for a lot of reasons, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But.” You lock gazes with him. “You’re a brilliant man who’s also very sweet and respectful, besides being hellish fit! You know exactly how much I’m worth, Carl… but it’s time you know your own value.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes go to his lap and he plays with the rim of his sleeve. “I know who I am…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tips his head back. “Like I said… I’ve heard what I am my entire life. And I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…” you look at him sweetly, luring his attention. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please!” your hand waves in the air as you speak, passionately. “You’re the owner of the goddamn company, who happens to be the most intelligent man I know, and not only is dedicated to his work, but is learning more and more, every single day. Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re opening yourself to me, every single day, a little more. Six months ago, we met at the show and you were so…” you laugh, wistfully. “… awkward! But still, a very sweet, funny guy, that caught my eye! I wasn’t interested in anyone else. I’m still not interested in anyone who isn’t you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just… let a girl finish. Always let a girl finish first.” He seals his lips with joyful eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I mean… you’re reducing hours, and trying your best to have fun with things, with me. You have no idea how much that means. That is an old dog learning a new trick. I never get tired of saying this, but I love you so much. I love who you are and how you see the world, how you see people. How can you possibly think anything about yourself that isn’t “I’m the shit!” is beyond me!” He snorts, both hands on each side of the armrest of his chair, laughing gingerly as you continue “Plus… have you seen you?! The hair, the eyes, the lips, the arms…” You lean over, lowering your voice. “The trunks…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl lets out a loud, nervous chuckle, biting his lip as he looks at you. His gaze slowly shifts, from misty to sweet, as he wipes under his eyes. “Thanks…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not done… and also… fucks like a bull.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he relaxes. “Wow… that’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The truth! Walter will never be the same after that day!” you get up from the desk, grabbing a couple of drinks from a tray on his side table, now offering him one. “And I just can’t stay quiet when you say bad things about yourself. You’re twenty nine! You own a freaking company! Come on! A successful one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I do.” He shifts on his seat, sipping on his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you landed this hot girl, who happens to love you… very much. So much, she actually came to your office party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow…” he smiles bashfully over the rim of the glass. “She must really love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! You can bet your tight arse she does.” You clink your glass with him, shooting him a wink. “And I bet everything that if she knew who said that, she would kick some teeth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t doubt it!” he raises his brows with a grin, a little more at ease. “She would send them to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it! So… jokes apart… I really believe in everything I just said. You’re my favorite person in the world, Carl. It’s not what you can be… it’s… who you are. We had some problems, but your willingness of solving them, of dedicating yourself to change is…” you sigh. “It’s inspiring. I never met anyone that would go so far for a partner. And don’t think I don’t know how difficult it is. I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Difficult?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Letting go of control… it was so hard not calling you after that grocery store day… I was panicking over you not calling, and that was… I understood. I understood what you were going through with your work and… us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at his drink for a moment, a meditative look on his face. “I… understood what it was like to be you… you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles. “I was never the person to be in charge of calling back or… no one ever handed the control to me, like that… and when you did, well…” he bites his inner lip. “That was when I knew there was much more going on than just my work. I didn’t know what it was, I just… just figured I should find out. When we went to the reunion together, I was so fixated on my own problems, that I never realized you were… missing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That never happened before. I never had a girlfriend fighting me over my hours. Not that I had many girlfriends, to begin with, but still… the ones I had just never…” his lips perch. “… cared so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tilt your head with a frown, gulping on your drink. “They really missed out on a great guy, if you ask me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please! That’s a given at this point!” You pause. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I n-never… connected things. It was so normal for me to bring work home, and be alone in my office, resolving whatever I needed to resolve. I think at some point, I just… I didn’t even have work to do. Just wanted to dive in to not face other problems we had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… but that’s…” he throws a dismissive hand. “That’s a talk for another day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure. I don’t wanna bother you, or myself. Let’s just… change the subject.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes narrow as he swigs his whisky, picking up a second one from the tray. “Hm… ok. How about you, telling me why we really came to your office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on… you were sweating after what Drake said… clearly, you’re thinking about it.” You gesture to him with your glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what he said…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Let’s just address the elephant in the room, talk about it and move on, ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Erm…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cut him short with a tranquil tone in your voice. “I’m not in a hurry to get married. And I’m not about to put pressure on you. Carl… we just got a grip of what we are. We’re finding new ways to deal with our work and our life as a couple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” He looks relieved and confused at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the marriage talk is really unnecessary right now. We have a lot of time to spend together, and a lot to learn about each other before even thinking about that. Don’t you agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s gaze stays on you, his lips twisting. “Yeah… you’re… you’re right. It’s too soon…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. So… I don’t want you to think you have to consider this stuff… it’s… it’s already hard to be in a new relationship, where you need to work on it. The pressure of the marriage talk only makes everything worse. Let’s just…” you sip your drink. “See where it goes. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and we love each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods with a weak smile. “That works. That’s very… insightful…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you agree.” Your eyes roam the office and you shoot him a mischievous smile. “So… office sex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? We’re already here, might as well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts you short as he brushes his lips on yours, smiling through the kiss. “You’re… amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your hand with a smug smile, staring at your nails. “I know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, why don’t you go out there, I’ll be right with you.” He nods to the door with a weak smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” He smiles. “Everything is great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, see you back there. Unless…” you unloop one button of your dress, giving him a smoldering look, chuckling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright… I’m going… see you in a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoot him a wink, before closing the door. Through the small opening of a couple of blinds, you see Carl opening his first drawer, grabbing something to put in his pocket. He looks at his surroundings, making sure no one is prying. Right after, he grabs his tumbler, leaving his office, to meet you by the elevator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… I think we’re good to go, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? We haven’t been here for…” you check your watch. “…half an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, usually I just make an appearance. I never stay ‘til the end. What for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you afraid of missing something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid to miss the surprise waiting for you, back at my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You perk up, calling the elevator by pressing the button, enthusiastically. “We’re leaving you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses your temple, chuckling. “Yes. We are. I just need…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea approaches you both, carrying a very drunk Raf to the break room. “Hold on you two, I wanna take you to the car.” You and Carl share a look, watching as she drags the scrawny assistant to the other side of the bullpen. Not even a minute later, she comes back, sliding her hands on her dress. “Wrinkles! So… are you leaving?” she looks pointedly at Carl, who nods. “Great. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? You’re not gonna force him to stay and have fun?” you ask, before the elevator doors close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the point? You know him better than I do… plus, I do think you guys should go. This party is about to be out of control, and it gets ugly. Each year gets worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say no more…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lobby is also decorated, and the glass doors slide open as you approach them, Carl linking his arm with yours, immediately shielding you from the gusts of wind. Andrea whistles between her fingers, catching the driver’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shiver with the temperature, the wind so crisp, it feels like a thousand tiny, thin needles pierce your cheeks. His arms involve you, and he brings your face to stay in his coat. “I got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muffled and hidden “thanks” makes him laugh, before the car pulls over and he opens the door. You surprise Andrea with a hug, and even though it takes her a couple of moments to realize, she embraces you back, stunned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see she’s converting you, Dea.” Carl approaches her with a silly smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” She slaps his arm, with her hand extended for a handshake, but he throws his arms around her, with a warm hug. “Happy Holidays, Dea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifts on her feet, embarrassed, but quickly recomposes, clearing her throat. “H-happy Holidays… nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl tosses his head back, hopping in the car after you, and Andrea closes the door. “I better not see your pale arse here before January fifth, do you hear me?!” her voice, threatening, teases a laugh from you, but her finger hovers from Carl to your direction. “And if his pale arse comes near, I’m blaming you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You mimic a salutation, mockingly. “Aye, aye, captain! I’ll make sure his pale arse doesn’t come near the office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you stop talking about my… pale… arse?” Carl’s eyes roll but his cheeks flush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Now go! And… Happy… holidays, you two.” A smile grows on the corner of her mouth as she taps the roof, alerting the chauffeur to drive away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Carl rolls up the window, you stare at him, eyes wild. “She really is scary when she wants to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told ya…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to see your eyes shutting as you laugh, luring a grin from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a short drive, Carl tips the driver, by the entrance, grabbing his keys from his pocket. You’re already by his door, trembling with the cold. He rushes to turn the knob, stepping aside for you to go in first, and when you do, you trip, almost falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my…” his hand holds you before you fall any further. “What the hell?” You look down to see a couple of suitcases close to the entrance. “Do you know anything about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are for you.” He locks the door, not paying attention to the rest of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, rapidly, trying to understand. “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, these are for you!” the keys are dropped on the console table and he takes his jacket off, hanging it on the hook by the entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” you pick one up, examining it. “Thanks…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl finally looks at you, seeing your reaction, and hurries to explain. “Oh, it’s for our trip!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our trip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! I’m taking you on a trip!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… erm… w-what?” you stammer even more confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the surprise…! I’m taking you on a trip! Tonight!” his eyes go wild, waiting for your reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You’re perplexed, unable to give a verbal response. “Wh-what… wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” he motions an explosion around his head. “An actual act of impulsiveness? Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what I’m thinking…” your eyebrows stay furrowed as you eye him, suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… when we talked the other day, and I told you about a trip, I was already researching places we could go… I figured…” he blinks slowly with sweet eyes. “I figured you would like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a couple of steps towards him, raising your hands to his cheek, biting your lip with a smile. “You… figured it right. I… I’m just really surprised!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Good surprise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze falls on you, after roam on the floor, coyly. “So… erm…” he clears his throat. “The car will be here in an hour, so make sure I put your favorite outfits in there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You packed? For me? You hate packing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to get some work done…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s great! I’m not even gonna check! I’m sure you did a hell of a job!” You keep staring at him, in disbelief. “I’m… honestly, I’m speechless! This is really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you love it. It’s not at all of me to surprise people… but…” he hesitates. “That worked, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips curl into a smile. “You got me… I-I don’t know what to say… thank you for this.” You bite your lip with a chuckle, slowly approaching him, throwing your arms on his neck. “Seriously… thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the one who should be thanking you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he sighs with a smile, his hands placed on your waist. “You were the most positive impact I ever had in my life. I-I… I’m not at all the guy that understands everything right away or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chime coming from his pocket cuts him short. You look down to see his screen lighting up as an incoming call on his phone interrupts you. Carl does his best to ignore it, shutting his eyes as he waits for it to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe… aren’t you gonna take it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What could be more important?” he tips his head with a smile, brushing his lips on yours. The annoying chime insists, and he sighs with defeat. Whipping out his phone from his pocket, his voice reaches a low, irritated voice. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Close to him, you can hear Andrea’s voice on the other side, clearly desperate. “We don’t know what it is, but we have six sober people trying their best. But we need your codes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingertips run on his hair, the strands going everywhere, “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boss… you know I wouldn’t call if I wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath catches. “I’ll…” his gaze falls on you. “Be right there.” He hangs up the call, his face crumpling with anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… need to go?” your voice comes out shy as you realize it. His head hangs back as he rubs his eyes with a deep, long sigh, before nodding. “Carl, it’s… ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not ok! I wanted us to go on this trip…I-I… I wanted to travel with you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… it’s ok.” Your hand cups his jaw. “I understand. Seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but… snorkel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lower your brows in confusion. “W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snorkel… I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling and I was thinking about it… we were gonna s-snorkel…” his tone is defeated as his expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe… we can go snorkel… after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression gains a new shade of pain. “You’re not mad…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… well… now that you mentioned snorkeling, I’m kinda sad…” you chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I… w-why?! Why now?! Why today?” he throws his arms, looking up and you grip his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come. The driver is probably close. He’ll take us there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us? Y-you’re going with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you don’t want me to…” you stop mid pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… I-I… I want you… I…” Carl’s face softens as he sees your determination, a smile spreading on his lips. “I want you to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets go of your hand and you grab your phone, requesting a car to go back to his office. His grin growing with every touch of your finger on the screen and his head shaking with disbelief. You swipe one last time, raising your head from the app, to see him staring at you with arms folded, and head tipped to the side, smile reaching his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He walks towards you, putting your phone away, both thumbs now grazing your temples. “You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you. So much. You don’t even know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, embarrassed, looking away so he doesn’t see the deep red tone in your cheeks. “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He searches for your eyes, biting a smile away. “And I don’t know if I ever said this before… but I’m really thankful for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gaze finds his, a hint of shock. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the type to say a lot, but… I think this is necessary. You know I love you and how much you have helped me the last few weeks. I just want you to know how thankful I am. There’s not a lot I’m thankful for, but you’re definitely one of the things that… that make me feel fortunate.” He rests his forehead on yours, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. “Thank you for being patient with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you’re… you’re welcome.” Your response is just as fast as the car you requested, honking in front of his house. “Come on… let’s… do whatever you need to do right now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You drag him to the front door, turning the keys as he speaks with fascination. “It’s actually quite interesting. Apparently, the bridge between the servers of the website and the server from the provider simply…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops abruptly. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me everything on the way…” you laugh, nodding to the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! Let’s go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both close the door, hopping in the car. You watch a perky Carl gesturing and making all faces as he explains whatever was the problem, animatedly making puns about firewalls and Christmas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you can think to yourself is “Dweeb”.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>check the sheet i made for andrea's son, carl's assistant, here: <a href="https://ravenadottir.tumblr.com/post/642201971589365760/original-characters-raf-who-are-they-carls">raf</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Quarantine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Spring always comes with a very peculiar feel in the air. It’s always a different beam of light or scent that comes from the outside warning you. They didn’t wake you up this year, though. It’s a different year and the most problematic you’re about to have in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl called you early so you would pack your things to go to his house. Unfortunate happenings led you two to agree on staying together for the next few months. “Few” because you don’t know how long it’s gonna last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the feeling of being able to stay in quarantine with Carl is reassuring. It’s a tough moment for everyone, and all we can do now is stay united. And if possible, close to the ones we love, in lockdown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole world is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pandemic situation forced everyone to stay at home, to avoid the spreading of a recently discovered disease, after so many other disasters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl managed to pull every string possible, so his employees would be able to work from home. As soon as the conversation about a quarantine started, he managed to install new measures, and intranet systems, to allow every single one of his people to work, remotely, in the safety of their houses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… rare to see that happening. I know plenty of people that wouldn’t give two shits about it.” Andrea was happily settled at home, surprisingly. You thought there was gonna be a lot of anxiety in your conference call with her, but as it turns out. “I’m actually ok at home. Raf is sharing the chores… for once…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your son is another level of commitment in the office, Dea. I don’t think you can blame him on the chores. That’s on me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl was also relaxed, for your astonishment, but then again, he never had a problem with working from home or staying in isolation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since his company had important, and big accounts, after the Villa, it was essential everyone was alert. But other than that, he wasn’t necessarily monitoring every single problem that rolled in, trying his best to keep up with you, relaxing wise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what…” you drape an arm on his shoulder as you both share the bed, on a rainy Saturday morning. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again… “laid back Carl” is incredibly sexy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so “laid back” if we’re being honest…” he perches his lips as he accesses one of the current crashed systems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you what… when you’re done with this one, we’ll go to the kitchen… maybe make some breakfast together… what do you say?” your eyes beam with hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… first I have to say “Sorry for waking you up” at five in the morning…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Systems don’t really choose the best hours to crash, do they?” you chuckle under your breath, a relaxed tone to your voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These suckers used to wake me up at three in the morning all the time… right when I started my company, I was the only one taking measures, and we didn’t even have an office...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know… I really like this story. “Early Carl” is so adorably naïve and intelligent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” he raises his eyes over his reading glasses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… you grew up a lot. You have employees, a successful company, close friends, a hot girlfriend… you’re not that naïve anymore. It’s a compliment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’ll say this. Carl, fresh from college, borrowing money from banks to invest in a company at 22?” you lean in with a whisper. “Hot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes wander on the screen of his laptop, getting lost is the page he’s trying to code. “Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch as he gets lost in thought for a moment, quietly cupping his own chin as he stays focused on one spot, but not saying anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?!” he’s startled as you snap your fingers, breaking his trance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m… I’m ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure? You were tripping there for a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Carl adjusts himself on the bed, straightening his back, avoiding your gaze. “No, I just… just the memories from that time… no big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… you never tell me stories from that time. So, I wouldn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, they’re just…. Boring tales of a nerd opening a business. You would be bored out of your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squint at him. “Right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you. If you think my meetings are boring now, you should’ve seen the ones I had back in the day… eight years ago everything was getting started… annoyingly unimpressive. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess you did pick the right time to work with what you work, right? Social media, banking, online shopping with security measures…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” His eyes gleam as he looks at you. “Good times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ll have to tell me some stories, someday… but for now, get typing before I do it!” with a kiss on his forehead, you get up from the bed, heading to the bathroom, his gaze following your steps until you close the door behind you, a coy smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh…” Grinning, he restarts his work, the keys on his laptop almost jumping with the intensity of his speed, rushing it to finish before seven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the bathroom, you do your morning routine. After brushing your teeth, a quick and warm shower, followed by brushing your hair, you step out of the steamy room, wrapped in a towel, heading to his closet, to pick up your clothes for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” he closes his laptop, resting his back on the headboard, his blue pajamas with a few strands of light coming from the outside. “What do you plan on doing today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I was thinking we could have breakfast, exercise a little and then…” you walk towards his side of the bed, leaning over. “We could…” your voice dropping to a whisper. “Binge watch Star Trek…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes shut and his hairs stand on end as he perkily gets up from the bed. “Deal!” he rushes to get a towel, hopping in the bathroom for a shower. “No take-backs! We’re gonna binge watch everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerd…” you laugh under your breath, watching Carl almost falling on his way to his morning shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl cups his chin with a pensive look, narrowing his eyes as he stares at you, intensely. “You think you can do this?” he has a defiant tone this voice as he squints, almost managing a smoldering look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… bring it on…” you lean over the coffee table, towards his lips, speaking closely. “Do you have what it takes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hisses. “Probably…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You first… white…” you nod at him, biting away a grin. Carl lowers his fingers to his knight, moving it to F3, luring a mocking laugh from you. “Very modern of you to start with the Reti Opening… what... Are you desperate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har…!” he trails off, avoiding your eyes. “Always…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help a chuckle as you move your pawn to D5, now tapping the timer beside you. “So… you never talk about your days back at the Chess club…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” his turn takes him a moment to stare at the board. “It was a long time ago.” His pawn advances two spots, staying on C4. “What do you wanna know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting play… erm… I don’t know. You never say a lot about your first kiss there, for instance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair.” Your finger hovers on your pawn, placing it on E6. “Your move, Gallagher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… I guess it was really a-awkward…” he cringes with the memory. “We weren’t exactly experts and I do think we’re both scared because of it.” His pawn walks two spots, staying on D4.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scared? What were you gonna do? Swallow each other?” your knight stays on F6, mirroring his initial move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har…” he laughs. “It surely felt like that. Some sort of Demogorgon fear, you know. I never kissed anyone before, and neither had she. It was…” as he talks, he watches you, attentively. “Definitely not the best first…” his knight goes on C3, right behind his pawn and he taps the timer with a light smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… the Queen’s Gambit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s eyes roam from the board to you, his smirk persistent. “I would never imagine you to be a chess nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” a crease appears between your brows as you look at him, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get me wrong! It’s just… it’s March… and we never played before… and you never said anything about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” you bite your inner lip. “I’m honestly not a chess nerd. If anything, I barely know the moves, in the first place. It’s something I had in school, and then forgot it existed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles. “So why giving me a chessboard for Christmas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” you raise your fingers as you count your reasons. “One, it’s crystal. Two, it’s gorgeous… and I know how much you love shiny and crystal things…” he stifles a grin. “Three, I just figured it would be fun… it’s something you like doing and maybe we…” your eyes stay on his. “We… could share it as a couple…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice drops to a sweet tone. “You… you wanted to learn chess to… to play with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s one of the things you like, and you went through so much to make me happy. I was anxious to do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head tips to the side. “But you do. All the time. Quite effortlessly, if you ask me…” his hand finds yours across the board, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “We don’t have to play chess just to spend time together. We can do other things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a sudden feeling of butterflies in your stomach, and judging by the gleam in his eyes, he’s going through the same. For a moment, you share a tender smile, but then, you quickly recompose yourself, tapping the back of his hand. “What… scared you’re gonna lose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I-I, no. I mean...” he notices your smirk and rolls his eyes, playfully shoving you. “I think I’m rubbing off on you a little bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stay focused on the match, analyzing the pawns. “Why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes the distance between you, his torso hovering the chess pieces as his lips stay close to yours, his voice in a low tone. “You’re turning into a dweeb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshh! Please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! You watch Star Trek for fun, you can name every single character from any of the movies and the TV shows, you learned how to code, you got the chicken roll recipe wrong, you forgot you add too much rum in our cocktails last week, just like me, and you’re playing chess, quite well, actually!” He smiles, moving his bishop, whispering. “Dweeb…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You do your best to hide your face and stifle a laugh, but it’s impossible as he keeps repeating the word, from time to time, during the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dweeb…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you know mine, why not telling me yours?” Carl grabs a loofah and dips it in the warm tub water, getting it damp so he can drizzle the orange and clove body wash. “I’m just curious…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at him, across the tub, completely submerse, except for your head. “Well… sometimes we don’t talk about this stuff because we don’t know the kind of discussions it might bring.” Your hands run on his bended knees, tickling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…!” he’s startled by the tickles, recoiling back in place. “I told you before… I would have to defend my family’s name…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har… I would like to see you try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees your defiant look, but shakes his head, immediately noticing what you’re doing. “Hey! You’re not getting away from this… who’s your celebrity crush? You know mine since… well, forever…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips perch as you assess the possible damage. “Ok… I’ll tell you… but first!” you raise a finger. “I wanna know why her. I know she’s fit, but that doesn’t count…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair. It doesn’t. It’s just… Michael is such a…” he hisses. “Strong woman. She’s… You’ve seen the show. She’s seen as the key in the war against the Klingons and she’s the bridge between Starfleet and different races throughout space! She’s awesome… and Sonequa is the first black woman to lead a Star Trek series and she’s just…” he splashes, unintentionally. “So cool!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Isn’t she the foster sister of Spock…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah! No! That’s a weird timeline and I don’t buy it! It doesn’t make sense…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok…babe… don’t get altered. This is supposed to be relaxing…” you wave your hands in a calming manner, your voice slow and breathy, luring a deep breath from him. “Just… calm down…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. It’s just… I don’t resonate with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know. You point it out every time, and I’m starting to get on board.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl throws his arms, splashing you even more. “Thank you!” he sees your face wet, immediately approaching you with a caring hand. “Oh… sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, splashing him back. He shields himself, now going back to his initial position. “Hey… I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-whaaaaat… psh! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on! Tell me… who is your celebrity crush?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok!” you stop him, both hands on the rim as you hesitate a couple of times. “It’s… oof… ok. It’s… Mark… Ruffalo…” your eyes lower to your lap as you expect his reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… you mean… “Bruce Banner” Mark Ruffalo, or those… “romantic comedies” Mark Ruffalo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… “Dr. Banner” Mark Ruffalo, any day! One of the hottest nerds out there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but… Tony Stark… come on! He's at a different level… babe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but he’s a stuck up… there’s a lot going on and I wouldn’t dip my toes in his arc… oh!” you share a laugh with the unintentional pun. “It’s just…” As you speak, Carl stays focused, perching his lips. “He’s so intelligent and hard-working… so dedicated and he’s just…” you hiss, gesturing wildly with. “This hunky bloke with an incredible brain that doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions! And when he doesn’t deal with them, he turns into the Hulk! Like… so hot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes stop on Carl, fingers laced under his chin as he listens to you carefully. “And he’s so thoughtful when it comes to love… he tries his best to keep Dr. Ross around and safe, even though it doesn’t work, but he’s trying everything he can to p-protect her…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You trail off, squinting at Carl as you analyze his nodding and posture. Suddenly a sheen pair of glasses starts sprouting on the bridge of his nose, along with a white coat on his broad shoulders. “He’s… intelligent and… hot… and very caring… besides being…” you tip your head, seeing a full picture of Carl in lab gear. “… a true nerd…” you trail off again as your eyes narrow and your lips part, your face crumpling into a pensive manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-are you… are you ok?” he leans forward. “I-is everything ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?” your trance is interrupted as you hear his voice, and his hand reaches for your forearm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seemed a bit… lost in thought there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… lost… in thought…” slowly, the accessories start fading into a nude Carl, in front of you, and you shake your head rapidly, brushing the image off. “Anyway… that’s…” you clear your throat. “T-that’s who my celebrity crush is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it. We start liking certain characters because of what they represent. Michael is such an amazing character! She’s a rebel! She doesn’t even stay long in prison and goes to serve without finishing her life sentence!” he chuckles but his head tips to the side. “She’s also very… strong…” his voice starts fading the more his head tips and his eyes narrow. “So intelligent and…” he swallows dry. “Fierce…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lower your brows, watching his eyes go dark with desire for a moment, before he stammers to find his words. “She’s just… so amazing… and so…” he watches you graze the loofah on your arms as you listen to him. “… hot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You catch his gaze as you finish scrubbing your arms, now seeing a fully lab-geared Carl as he stares at you, eyes roaming on your face and torso, pensive. “Yeah… characters, right…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… characters…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaaargh!” you throw your arms. “I can’t take it anymore!!” your voice loses track of its volume, Carl chasing you to the door. You slap his hand from your arm, enunciating every word in your sentence. “I – can’t – take – it – anymore!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t! It’s driving me crazy and I honestly can’t! Carl! I’m done with this!” you turn the knob, but he stops you with a loud laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…” he chuckles continuously, under his breath, trying to keep a straight face. “I know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t! You’re in your happy place! I’m not! I swear! If I stay one more day here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… hold on…” Carl keeps one hand on yours, preventing you from opening the door, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Here… you can call Chels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO! I’m so sick of this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… babe… it’s a Quarantine… you’re supposed to stay inside… you know it’s the responsible thing to do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but…” you take a deep breath, a heavy pressure keeping your shoulders slumped, your voice weak. “But… outside…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs heartily watching as your lips slightly pout. “I know… I know… come here. Let me help you.” He drapes an arm on your shoulder, leading you to the opposite side, to the couch. You shrug him off, trying to make a run for it, but he catches up quickly, shaking his head, laughing with amusement. “Babe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know! Responsible… I know… but…” you frown, defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it…?” his hands cup your jaw as he stares at you, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… you don’t mind staying inside, and I don’t either… but it has been so… long!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see… come here.” He brings you closer to a hug, kissing the top of your head. “I know you’re probably feeling a little… cornered, but it’s almost over… we just need a little…” he blinks slowly. “Patience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pull away with a shocked face. “I-I’m sorry… did Carl… the tech entrepreneur that never sleeps… hero of technology, solver of problems, the one and only Carl Gallagher…” he bites his lip with a laugh. “That Carl… just asked me to be… patient…?” your brows raise with an anxious look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… it’s out of our control…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cut him short with a snort. “Excuse me… I need a minute…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop…” he bashfully rolls his eyes with a grin. “All you need is to… see the bright side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and we’re feeling optimistic too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head hangs back as he takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours. “Yes. For instance, today is Sunday… it’s relatively sunny outside, and the temperature is very nice right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow! What a bright side! Can I go now?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…!” he laughs, staying behind you, both hands on your shoulders, leading you to the bedroom. “We need to stay together in this… I know it’s hard…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! It’s been four months! Four!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” you both walk in the bedroom that you have been sharing for the entire Quarantine. The sunlight crashes through the window, every inch of the room, illuminated. “Take a look at this.” He gestures to the sun beaming outside, the warm and inviting colors of the rainbow dancing on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, Carl… it’s causing the opposite effect here. I only wanna go outside even more!” a crease of sadness forms between your brows. “I really don’t wanna…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It didn’t matter that we went out last week. We can’t leave. I know it’s intense, but we can’t…” he sighs, his head tilted. “We can’t leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit on the edge of the bed, removing your recently put on shoes. “Yeah, I know. Especially now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Especially now.” He repeats your words with a sad tone, taking a seat next to you, watching your gloominess as he takes another deep breath. For a moment, he keeps his gaze on his own feet, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, his eyes gain a mischievous glint and he talks in a calm, low voice. “You know… I was thinking the other day… how this has been the craziest time of our lives. And how much I appreciate you’re here with me… you have been keeping me so calm…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” you raise your eyes from your lap, wiping a stress tear from the corner of your eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You’re… you’re always the one person that gets me to calm down… no one else knows how to do that. You just bat your lashes and I’m…” he smiles to himself. “I don’t know… I can’t explain. I feel good when I’m around you.” Carl’s gaze falls on you, tenderly looking at your lips as his thumb catches another stress tear before it rolls. “I like this. I like having you here… I don’t know how things would’ve been if you weren’t isolated with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I don’t know how you do it.” He glances at his fingertips, in one piece, then at you, with a content smile. “You’re the only one that ever made that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breath catches as you watch a very toned down, relaxed Carl get up and grab something from his nightstand. He comes back, object in hand, smiling with his eyes. “I just wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate having you with me. And I think I know how…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… I’m intrigued.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stays in front of you, a suave touch of his hands on your shoulder. “Do you trust me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah… I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great.” His fingertips touch your waist, giving you a minor shock, as he slides your top through your head, tossing it on the chair next to the door. “Lie down for me, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his brows and you obey, lying down. He works on the zipper of your shorts, tugging them down, then rolls you to stay on your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” he leans over with a firm voice. “Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few anxious seconds go by and you feel a warm liquid on your back. “Carl…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharp scent of cinnamon springs as Carl sits astride of you, running his oily palms on your skin. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-nothing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues to spread the oil to your shoulder blades, his thumbs moving in circular motions from your upper arms and down. Slowly, you feel yourself loosening up on the mattress as he kneads your muscles, section by section.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is the pressure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ph-phenomenal…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps a smile, grazing his fingers behind your neck, bringing the massage down, to the mid portion of your back. He bends over to talk closely, his breath feathering your ear. “Is it helping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof…” you respond with a shudder. “D-definitely… definitely helping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you want me to do…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… keep going…” your muffled voice is barely audible as your face stays in the bedsheet, and the heel of his hand massages the lower of your back, the tension fading with his touch. “This is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even the beginning…” he cuts you short with a grin in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your head with a curious look on your face. “Excuse me…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard me…” there’s a hint of amusement on his voice as he leans over. “Like I said before… babe… anything you ask me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes close as you bite your lip, his voice calm and relaxed always does something to you. His low tone teases your head to turn and see Carl, on top of you, working his palms on your body, visibly excited about helping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re something else, Carl… did you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You prop on your hand, holding one of his on the side of your stomach. “Yes… you really are. I don’t think I had anyone doing all of this for me… ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… same. I guess it’s one more thing we have in common.” You share a smile as he descends from your back, roaming his fingers with a light touch on your skin. “I know another thing that we have in common…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, we have plenty of things in common!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… but this one I just remembered…” he rolls you, delicately, to stay lied on your back. “… it’s one of those things that we both love…” You watch as he moves his hands to your stomach, a light chuckle teasing its way from you. “And I really like reminding you about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, shooting you a look as he parks his fingertips on your underwear. “That is… if you want me to do it right now… because it’s definitely what I wanna be doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your inner lip as you place a hand on the back of his, sliding your underwear down, slowly blinking as you speak. “I can’t seem to remember what it is…” He stops on his tracks, with a confused look as he stares down at your waist, luring a laugh from you. “Carl… just…” you hoist yourself up, your lips brushing his. “Remind me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” a muffled, embarrassed chuckle escapes him as he watches you, lying back down slowly, keeping eye contact. Realization dawns on him, and he facepalms, frowning. “Right… I ruined it, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, spreading your knees as you prop on your elbows. “Never…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grin, he gets up, gripping your leg, planting his lips on your ankle, shutting his eyes as he leaves a trail of kisses, moving up to your knees. His soft lips touch every single inch of the path with devotion, slowly tingling your senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help but moan when he stays between your legs, his mouth moving to the top of your thigh, teasing another path, inwards. He takes his time as he kneels, by the edge of the bed, exploring your body, kissing his way to your waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun beams outside, and you lie back completely, eyes closing with his light touch, feeling the rays of sunlight tingling on your skin as they warm you up. And even though his touch always sends you in a spiral of electricity, you feel at peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low gasp bolts from your throat as he touches his tongue on your sensitive spot, swiping slowly, sending small, incessant shudders through your body. He delicately holds your legs against his shoulder, the back of your thighs heating his upper arms as he moves his head to please you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slide your own hands up the sides of your body, scooping your own hair from behind your head, to spread out on the pillow. Carl raises his eyes to watch you smile as his mouth works on you. He takes his time, licking you with intensity, but slowly building waves of pleasure, to ripple through you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silent, yet pleasant, atmosphere only relaxes you more. You look down to see a grin that reaches his eyes, now pulling him up. With a hushed tone, he hovers close to your lips. “Hey… I wasn’t done…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know… I just want you here. Like this…” Your hands fumble with his sweatpants, the fabric grazing his skin as you slide them down, positioning yourself right under him. “I love you, Carl... so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile, kind, grows as he shuts his eyes. “Say that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His response comes out almost as a whisper “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pull his hips closer, hooking his waist with your legs, slowly, as your bodies meet halfway. His lower body stays with yours, moving as he brushes his lips on your collarbone, trailing to find your mouth, languidly kissing you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His forearms frame your head, his thumbs grazing your temple as he stops, to look at you. “You have no idea how beautiful you look from here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That makes two of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s smile grows as continues to move with you, your hips rocking together, in sync. His eyes have a different glint, reflecting the sun that bathes the bed. You run your palms on his shoulder blades as he buries his face in your hair, his moves soft and tender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel his muscles trembling under your fingertips, his back moving back and forth as he thrusts. He takes his time, now sitting on his knees, bringing you up to stay on top of his legs, your hips rolling with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light brings out the shine of your hair, cascading on your shoulders, tossed to the side so he can nip your neck, leaving a lingering bite as your hearts beat faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grunts are low, almost quiet. The rush of energy between you turns into a much stronger crest, the heat below your waistline growing with every word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time he says your name. every time his lips find yours. your body responds with a delicious feeling of anticipation. You call his name with a moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love every sound you make.” He whispers in your ear, taking control as one of his hands grips the sides of your stomach, the other securing your thigh. “Every single one of them.” He takes you to the wall beside the bed, pressing his body on yours as he sinks into you, over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel your drenched skin fitted around him as your heart beats fast with his. “You’re the only one that makes me moan like that…” your smirk makes his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t stop, picking up tempo, just enough to lure a louder gasp from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my favorite sound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cup the back of his head, arching yourself against him, constant waves of pleasure rippling through your body, more and more as he says your name in your ear, pleading for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice comes out weak as your legs tremble around his torso. “Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrusts faster, sending shivers on your scalp, beads of sweat building on your temples. He grits his teeth, holding back, digging his fingertips on your thighs. His brows raise with anticipation, hearing you crying out his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His forehead rests against yours, the flexing of his knees allowing him to go deeper. “Carl…” He groans, shutting his eyes, tossing his head back. “Don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can see his breathing rhythm through his stomach and chest, his muscles contracting, trying to please you, as much as he can. Your moans become louder, breathless, out of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His name, and yours, mix themselves, echoing through the floodlit room. You look into his eyes to see them dark, passionate. “Don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strokes inside of you, intensely, waves of bliss make you shudder as you both let go and feel your ecstasy. His hair stays glued to his forehead, damped as he slows down, the lingering feeling of your rapture slowly fading as he ceases his motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your instincts kick in, finding his lips with yours. He smiles through the kiss, taking you back to the bed, lying you down, carefully, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me just…” he runs his fingers on the sheer curtains, pulling them to the center of the window, filtering the sun beams. “That’s better…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lie down with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to ask.” He stays on his side of the bed, pulling you to stay between his arms, your cheek on his chest. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Carl rolls his eyes, squeezing you in his embrace. “I love you, too… like you don’t know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both drift off after his hearty laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har… I knew it! It’s the gas tap.” You’re crouched on the floor, with a flashlight in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what a shame. Looks like we’re gonna have to order takeout until further notice.” Carl smiles, hiding a hint of victory as he averts his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure…” you squint, seeing right through him. “Fortunately for us, I am friends with Mr. Rennel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am too… what does that have to do with anything…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. I know the problem is the trigger between the button and the stove, and this is probably because of you light touch…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… it’s too sensitive for my taste!” he gestures to the appliance, a little annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… you bought it. Anyway. I’m pretty sure a simple adjustment with a rubber will fix it, but just in case, I’m calling the crane man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why…?” he follows you to the living room, where your laptop lies on the coffee table. “Why go through the trouble if we can simply have food with the touch of a finger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You top in your tracks. “Because you’re not getting away with learning… you said yourself.” You do a mocking impression of him, your voice a little lower. “Whatever it takes to learn how to cook, I’ll do it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but that was months ago! I haven’t learned, and probably never will… I made my peace with it. Why can’t you?” he folds his arms over his chest with a large grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… I wanna cook. I like it, it soothes me. And you, sir, are not escaping from your promise. Remember? Your New Year’s resolution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He facepalms, sighing, as he repeats word by word that come out of your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the end of the year, I’ll be making your favorite Oreo cheesecake, or my name is not Carl Gallagher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoot him a smug look. “And my resolution was… “not letting you give up” and I’m ready to make that happen! So, if you don’t mind, I’m calling Gary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws his arms in defeat, taking a seat next to you, on the couch. Gary quickly picks up the video call, Bobby on the side of the screen, his shirt washed with flour. “Erm… hi guys…” you grin as you point to the pastry chef. “What in the world…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! So, get this…” Bobby’s raspy voice sounds annoyed and there’s only thing that could’ve happened. “Gary is a complete disaster! He managed to get flour and eggs on me.” He gets up from his seat, showing the back of his top. “Seriously! How can such a skillful man do this?!” he pinches the collar of his shirt, staring at Gary with annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I told you, I’m not easy to be controlled, and if you thought differently, then the joke’s on you!” Gary replies with a certain tone to his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Riiiight…” you and Carl trail off, in unison. “Anyway…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, how is my favorite couple doing?” Bobby pushes Gary out of the frame, smiling through his teeth. Not too long after, the crane man gets his revenge, by shoving the pastry chef onto the couch. They both try to reach each other’s heads, to ruffle hairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, guys?!” you watch, eyes wild and chuckles, as they fight, picking up the sofa cushions to start a war. “Guys!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look back, at the computer screen, recomposing themselves, adjusting hair and clothes, to take seats again. “Sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the roommate thing is working, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! And that’s why we have mediation!” Bobby’s voice bolts from his chest and Noah runs into their living room. “A little late this time, Mr. Book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok…” Noah trails off as he sees you, immediately smiling with a kind gaze towards you. “Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi! I didn’t know you three were living together!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! God, no! Although Noah would be a much better companion than this jerk!” Gary slaps the back of Bobby’s head, immediately getting retaliated, being thrown off his seat, to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fight continues and Noah circles them both, to seat in front of the screen, eyes wide as he sees Carl, by your side. “Oh, hey! Erm… how is everything going with you guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” you glance at Carl with a tender look, and he gives it back, smiling and draping an arm on your shoulder. “Everything is going really well… except Carl’s stove needs some adjustments…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… that’s why you’re calling Gary…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly…” you peer over Noah’s shoulders, to see the two boys rolling on the floor, slapping each other. “… but I can see they’re busy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Noah’s gaze follows yours. “It happens a lot, actually… hold on.” He gets up from his seat, ringing a bell by the living room entrance. Bobby and Gary bolt from their positions. “Alright. A friend of ours needs help. Can you knock it off for five minutes?” they both stare at him as his voice comes out louder than usual. “Well, go on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry about that, mate.” Gary runs his massive hands on his hair, putting strands back in place, Bobby and Noah directly behind him. “So… what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… the stove is not working with the gas, and I think the problem in the stove is the connection between the trigger from the button and the actual flame. I think a simple rubber might fix it, but I wanna make sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, let me see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While you and Gary discuss the matter of the rubber, Noah does his best to not smile or glance at you, directly. From time to time, Carl’s cheeks flush as he sees the librarian’s eyes converging to look at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you just need to turn off the gas, screw the front portion and replace it. Just like you said, it’s the rubber.” Gary shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what size do you think it is? ‘Cause I’ve been looking at their website, and there’s no specification about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… do you have a mixer or a blender?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation goes on, but for the silent exchange of looks between Carl and Noah, it seems like eternity has come and gone before you and the crane operator could finish your conference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I’ll just get the one from the mixer, and if it doesn’t work…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You call me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Thanks, mate! You were a great help!” you smile at the boys, tipping your head to see Noah’s gaze on you, a little too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah! You already knew the problem. But ring me if you need. And if you do get it fixed, ring me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Hey…” you point at him and Bobby, then at Noah. “Stay out of trouble! And you, sir, keep them out of trouble!” They nod, but Noah speaks, in a sweet voice, looking at his hands as he plays with his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Talk to you all later.” You end the call, getting up from your seat, heading to the kitchen. “See… just a rubber problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s face is red. He looks down at the kitchen island, taking a seat as you rummage through the cabinets, looking for the broken mixer. “Ha! Found you.” He doesn’t listen to you, taking one of his fingers to his mouth, your words lost in the kitchen air. “Bet this is gonna work even better than I thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grazes his teeth on the freshly recovered skin, but stops himself, snapping his fingers with resolution. “D-do you need me for something? C-can I help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look behind you, to see a determined Carl standing in front of the stove, eyeing it with refreshed curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… that would be great… are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods quickly, glancing at his hand, before answering with a nervous voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah… I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The sun before the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A very delayed trip finally takes place, after the Quarantine is over.<br/>And Carl thinks you brought too much luggage and it would be too much work to take back to your place.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The smell of coffee is delicious, and strong enough, to wake you up, immediately humming. The sunlight crashes through the window, making you squint, shielding your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl is perkily coming towards you, two steaming mugs in a small tray, handing you one. “Good morning, gorgeous…” he smiles softly as you blink your slumber away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning.” your voice is weak and you straight yourself up, taking the mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an absolute scorch out there…” he looks through the window, his eyes wild.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make a change of the house, anyway… I was missing the outside!” you take a couple of sips of your beverage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and we can chill on the pool later. Or do you wanna go to the beach? The hotel has a lot of options, from what I was reading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… I’d love to stay by the pool for a while… cocktails… the water must be great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we’ll do that.” he sits on the bed, stroking your arm with his knuckles. “Hey, I thought it would be cool to have dinner in a different place, so I made reservations…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner? What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws a dismissive hand with a grin. “Don’t worry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I oversleep?” you look at your sides, looking for your phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… you slept, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… 3 pm.” he smiles, sipping his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa!” you jump from the bed, mug in hand. “I lost an entire day!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, babe.” He shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re stunned, not moving, staring at him with your eyes wide. “I’m sorry… I could’ve sworn you just said “Relax, babe”. Who are you?” you put your palm on his forehead, measuring a possible fever. “Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m great! This is an opportunity for us to have a good time.” he holds your hand and kisses it. “And we should have a calm breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, now you’re just messing with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he chuckles with expectant eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know…” you keep looking at him as if you were searching something on his face, tipping your head and cupping your chin. “You’re… different… even more than when we were in quarantine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am?” he looks down at his white robe, opening it and shrugging again. “I don’t see anything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that! Who are you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…?” he continues with a grin, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making jokes too? Wow… “laid back Carl” is starting to take Carl’s place, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop!” he gets up, kissing the top of your head before heading to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… ok. Let’s have breakfast… a calm… breakfast. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trip was delayed since December, when the systems of several clients crashed. You had to stay in for a while, until everything was up and running, but for everyone’s misfortune, a pandemic took everyone by storm, and for the last five months, everyone was staying inside, avoiding as much as they could, the contact with other people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a rough period for everyone, and it was hard not to feel some sort of defeat. It’s true that many professions suffered way more than others, and you were both thankful that you could work from home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did everything he could to keep you both safe, at his house, and it paid off. Now, that the situation is, somewhat, normalized, you decided to take the delayed trip, from last year, and commemorate your anniversary in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You did celebrate it, but it was supposed to be in an erm place, far from isolation, or London, for that matter. it was the first time he stepped out of his comfort zone, only to be thrown back at it, right after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breakfast goes by with you and Carl making plans for the day, and the night. Carl seems not only to be enjoying the trip, but also the food, the accommodations, the beach, the robes. He’s been surprisingly joyful about the little things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing like this ever happened to you, and probably never will. He’s feeling thankful for getting out of it, no scratches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is quite gorgeous here.” You say, finishing your coffee, glancing at the window. “So, how are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, taking a final sip of his tea. “I’m… feeling great. I don’t know why I was so scared of taking a trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you did have a long time to prepare for it. It’s already August and we just came out of a lockdown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” he trails off. “How are you feeling about the whole thing. I know we talked before, but I think you’re happier than you’re leading on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… yeah! I’m happier, for sure! I couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I’m just…” you tip your head. “Thankful. For being safe and getting through everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Me too. Everything that has been going on has certainly… just too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway… we should get dressed and hit the pool.” You put on your favorite swimsuit, that Carl remembered to pack the last time. “I knew I could trust you.” you twirl in front of the mirror, smiling at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember that’s your favorite because… well, you wear it even in my house…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… you gave it to me. I love this one. It grips…” you tickle his sides. “Really well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, trying to dodge your attacks. “I knew you were gonna use that against me again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna defend the honor of your family? Just like you promised…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let it slide…” he laughs, grabbing your arms and placing them around his neck. “… just this time…” His lips brush against yours, arms holding you tightly. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both grab your things to hit the wet deck. As you follow the path to the pool, the ocean breeze takes strands of your hair everywhere, luring a laugh from you and Carl. The waves, crashing on the beach right below the hotel, send a warm, saline scent, making you both take a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horizon is filled with fishing boats, and the distant yelling, from people having fun on the sand, gives a warm feeling in your heart. It’s been forever, probably for a lot of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl sits on one of the stretchers, signaling for one of the waiters to bring a round of cocktails. As you lie next to him, close to a large, semi-circle balcony, you can see the sun glistening on the turquoise waters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little island, small and remote, catches your eye, beyond the boats. Right where the waves crash on the sand, you can see the people swimming to the shore, others already setting out camp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the small island, looking pensive as he observes the swimmers going back and forth, but still, with a smile. You’ve seen him having a good time, but it always seemed a little mechanical. Almost like he was supposed to be having fun but didn’t know how. This side of him, the way he’s smiling and joking around is completely different. He didn’t even mention his company, or Andrea or the employees, at least not as much as he does, usually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna take a dip. Wanna come?” he asks, putting down the sweaty glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not right now, but I’ll be on the other side.” You move to the coping, dangling your feet in the water, cocktail in hand. He rushes to swim to your side, propping himself on the rim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, tired already?” he looks up, squinting because of the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah… just enjoying the view…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is gorgeous here…” he looks at the side of the pool area, the horizon, absolutely breathtaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m talking about you, babe…” You cup his chin, tilting your head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… you know. This is all I wanted. For you to rest and have some fun. Like, real fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I am having fun. You’re with me.” he smiles sweetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s not about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs. “But it is because of you. If it wasn’t for you worrying about me, there’s no way I’d be here right now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl tries to smoothly hoist himself from the pool but slips and has to roll out of the water. You try to stifle a laugh, but it’s stronger than you. People around notice and his cheeks turn red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry… it was… pretty funny…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You expected Carl to get up and leave, and instead, he just mimics, awkwardly, the motions of a fish out of the tank. You toss your head back, laughing, as he takes his place right beside you, still looking flustered, but chuckling along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was an impressive carp impression…” you stroke his hair, brushing the strands off his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobby taught me a thing or two in the Villa… I guess it’s not so…” he stammers, searching for the right word. “Emb-embarrassing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, laughing at yourself it’s better than not laughing at all, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you with an understanding expression. “I like that… I guess. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not the smoothest bloke in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except when you slip…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har…” he rolls his eyes, nudging you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on... it was a good one.” you raise your hand, waiting for a high five.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, high fiving you with low energy, but grinning. “Yeah, it was quality.” Carl then moves to the tray, grabbing another pair of drinks, handing you a colorful, icy glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” you nod to the beverage, taking a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea, but they’re sweet and are making me a little drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, lips perched. “Wow… I’m very impressed...” you raise yours. “To be a little drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to… imitating a fish, almost to the tee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the toast, you go back to one of the stretchers, sunbathing for the rest of the afternoon. It gets a little cold, as the sun starts setting after a couple of hours. Carl makes sure to pick up the towels and your bag, leading you back to the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I had a great time today. Even if it wasn’t that long… I enjoyed resting.” he pushes the button of the elevator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too. I never thought I’d see you carping your way out of the pool, but hey! Here we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… that was funny, but… painful.” he rubs his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can give you a massage, if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” he has a realization on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder if that’s why Bobby and Gary are always pulling these stunts? To get massages…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at the ceiling, cupping your own chin, thinking. “You know what? I think so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl shakes his head, laughing heartily. “Huh… that’s clever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those little sneaky…” you both ride the elevator to your floor, stepping in the room, tossing your things on the chair. “I’m gonna take a shower. There must be a ton of chlorine on me right now.” your swimsuit falls on the bathroom floor as you turn on the shower tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… I like you in that…” he points to the piece of clothing on the floor. “But I like it better when it’s there…” He tries to give you a smoldering look, but ends biting his own lip, deflated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobby’s or Gary’s?” you look at him, squinting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” he rubs the back of his neck. “Both…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It worked… sort of… it’s a good line.” you chuckle, stepping in the shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to lie. I never seem to pull this “seductive and flirty” stuff off, anyway…” he turns to go back to the bedroom, defeated, but you brush your fingers on his elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… you know what’s better than a swimsuit on the floor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lean in, closer to his lips, whispering. “Two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a couple of moments to realize what you mean. Finally, he taps his nose, smiling and blushing. “Oh! That was good… clever, simple…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab your waist with a smirk. “Are you gonna carry on how good it is, or are you joining me already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, taken aback, but slips his shorts, letting it fall next to your clothes. You pull him slowly to meet you in the shower box. His smile grows with every step towards you, and so does his wariness. As soon as your hands touch his chest, you feel the warmth of his skin. He tips his head back, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t believe how much I love when you touch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like this?” You rub his shoulders with both hands, sliding your palms down his back, pressing your body against his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it… it… it does things to me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smirk. “What kind of things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel things all over…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh… all over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” he closes his eyes, biting his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grips one of your hands gently, making it slide across his chest, to feel his heart thumping. As it goes down to his stomach, his muscles twitch under your fingers. His hairs stand on end and he hisses, looking directly at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love everything you do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for Carl to finish the sentence, you kiss his chest, dragging your fingers down. A soft moan comes out of his mouth, as his hands grab your head, bringing you closer for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes control, kissing you gently at first and increasing the passion, finishing off with a gentle bite on your bottom lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been waiting since yesterday to do this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes you against the wall, below the water. The heat from his body is even closer, as his teeth graze your shoulder and neck. You look at his eyes, grabbing his hand and taking it to your waist. His fingers slip to your inner thighs, teasingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He speaks in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me… what do you want me to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touch me… the way I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling of his fingers sinking on your wet skin makes your body shiver. His touches become urgent, as he continues to kiss your lips. You rest the back of your head on the tile, feeling the movements of his hands as they work on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure increases and you let a loud moan out. He stops, looking at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything ok, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry, it’s just… you look beautiful when I do that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Your fingers run through his hair and one of your legs circles his waist. “Keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile is followed by the pressure of his fingertips on your skin, again. His free hand holds the side of your neck, making you look at him as you feel more waves of pleasure coming. “You’re amazing at this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His whisper reaches your ears as he continues. “Like this…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hips start rolling, following the rhythm of his touch. “That’s right… keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips reach your collarbone, his low voice resonating on your skin as he grunts, his fingers pleasuring you. You can’t resist pulling him closer, pressing your waist against his. “Carl… I want you... please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without hesitation, he picks up your other leg, sinking into you. Your arms hook around his neck, as he thrusts inside of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was dying to have you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His whispers make you shiver, while his fingers dig the side of your thighs. The water dashes on your bodies as they move together under the shower. You leave a trail of bites on his neck, his grunts echoing in the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can see the water sprinting on his chest. He tosses his hair to the side, making the droplets hit the tiles. The vapor brings out the heat between you, instigating Carl to pick up his tempo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cry out his name, digging your fingernails on his upper arms. Before he can say anything else, you plant your feet on the floor, turning your back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rearing up, you lure him by holding the back of his neck, gripping his hips to, again, have him inside of you. He clasps your shoulders, to keep you in place, as your hips move back and forth, slowly. The groans fill the silent bathroom, as you feel goosebumps down your spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pleadings become louder, and the thrusts, deeper, as you and Carl move against each other. He laces his fingers in the roots of your hair, scooping them aside, pulling them lightly, so he can nip a trail from your neck to your shoulder blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart thumps in your chest as his voice, low, speaks in your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crosses his forearm over your chest, dominating the moves, rolling his hips while gritting his teeth. Waves of pleasure ripple through you, your moaning teasing his. You turn your head to see his, tipped back, and his stomach muscles contracting with every stroke. He raises both of your hands, pinning them on the wall, nuzzling in the back of your neck. His grunts reverberate, sending you into a spiral of electricity, sparks of pleasure building up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You toss your head back, leaning on his shoulder, his lips roaming your ears, moaning your name, over and over. The crests grow in intensity, your bliss closer and closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More… more…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flexes his knees, gripping your hips. “Faster… or rougher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rougher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His motions lure deep grunts from you, wave after wave crashing below your waistline, your voice weak, calling out his name as your hips rock together. Your chest trembles, and he quickly holds you, still keeping his pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between groans, his mouth travels to your ear. “I love when you moan like that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel your whole body twitching, your skin tightening around his, your head hanging forward as you tumble into your bliss, squeezing his hand with intensity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soreness of your pleasure slowly fades as you bite your lip, catching your breath. “I want more…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns you, picking you up on his arms, taking you to the bedroom. You leave a trail of droplets, his voice agitated asks, mid pacing. “How…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even rougher…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He furrows his brows, but sits on the edge of the bed, you on top of him. You look down, your eyes dark with yearning. “Boss me around, Carl… tell me what to do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s taken aback, still breathless, hesitant. He props on his hand, the other, running on the side of your stomach. He raises his eyes to you, silently. For a moment, he seems determined, yet slightly confused. “Move with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hips, involuntarily, sink onto him, your breathing catching. “Like this…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hisses with the craving of you, mounting his body, finding your lips in a passionate kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… boss me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunts while twining his fist in your damped hair, pulling your head back. His gaze fixated on yours. “Then… moan for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You oblige, grinding on his lap. His voice comes out firmer. “Louder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grunt spills from your lips and his eyes stay on yours, darker. His free arm snakes behind your back, pulling you to roll on the bed, staying on top of you. He leans over. “Is this ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod in response, elevating your hips to meet his, halfway. He sits astride of you, hands exploring your back, clutching your shoulders so he can move forward, into you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrusts, the pressure of his motions sending shivers down your spine. You raise your head, sucking on one of his fingers, gyrating your hips with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his chest on your back, legs and hips working to please you. “Like that?” he asks, breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like that…” you hiss your answer, another wave crashing. “Wait…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops, looking down at you. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” you elevate your lower body, propping on your hands, staying on all fours. “I want you like this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” he tilts his head to see the outlines of your body, slowly approaching his, finding each other again, your grinding teasing his loud breathing. “You feel amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes control, moving back and forth, holding you by the shoulders, chest and abdomen twitching behind you. You grab the bedsheets, shuddering, your legs losing control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… don’t stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frames both sides of your body with his arms, moving frantically, his hands on yours. He scoops your hair to the side, nuzzling in the back of your neck, this time, you can feel his deep breathing on your skin, the more he groans your name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrusts, urgently, resting his forehead on the back of your head, pleading for you. Your bodies rock together, trembles spreading across your skin, your voices mixed with the groans spilling from your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice, gruff, close to your lips, plead once again. “Babe… I can’t hold…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn your head to nip his bottom lip, whispering in his mouth. “Then don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hisses in response, guttural sounds bolting along with the friction of his skin on yours. You arch your back, a sore, warm feeling growing below your waistline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chin on your shoulder, you hold the back of his head, feeling the pressure of his hips increasing, crying out his name. Your hearts thump together, melting into each other as you feel your ecstasy. Carl doesn’t hold back, coarsely thrusting as he whispers your name through his teeth, trembling on top of your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your rush of pleasure resonates with his, your legs shuddering as you lose your breath, leaning forward, taken down by a surge of energy. You tumble to the side, heartily laughing, beads of sweat and shower water all over the mattress as the sensation of your bliss lingers for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl falls right next to you, kissing your chest through a smile. “That was…” his breath catches after a long pause. “… incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle in response, now feeling the damp bed sheets under your back. “Oof, we need a change here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a look around, seeing the damage, hearing the shower still dashing in the bathroom. “Oh my god! We forgot the shower!” naked, he runs towards the bathroom, turning it off. “Got it!” he shouts, his voice reverberating in the steamy room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” you lie down, more comfortably, doing a pose as you pro on your elbow. “Join me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you wanna change it first?” he nods to the wet bedding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a minute… or ten… or fifty…” your brows raise suggestively, causing Carl to gasp with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe! I don’t think I can have another shot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… I meant a nap. But I like the way your brain works!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He joins you on the bed, the dry side, narrowed down to his spot. He plumps on the bed, pulling you to lie down on his length.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl! Who would sleep like this?” he runs his fingertips on your back, his forearms holding you on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… but it’s way better than the wet spot, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… you’re better than the dry one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You flatter me.” His cheeks blush, slightly, and he pulls you even closer, so his lips touch yours. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too. And hey, next time, make sure you don’t forget…” you skim a fingernail on his ear. “… the accessories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh… oh…” he grins, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, you will have accessories as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lie your head close to his heart. “I already do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help a chuckle and a shudder. “We’ll discuss it. Soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being able to travel, especially with Carl, certainly makes you feel fortunate. But just like everything great, it had to end. This time of the year is quite busy for his company, but he managed to get a week so you could have this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a week, back at his house, he drags the bags inside as you close the door behind you. “I don’t know about you, but I love coming back home after a trip.” He places the luggage in the hallway, heading to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it. It’s nice to be out, but it feels great coming back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a sip of a water bottle from the fridge, handing you one. “So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” you chug a good amount, before focusing on him, leaning over the kitchen island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking… you do have a lot of bags to take to your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs with perched lips, a casual undertone to his voice. “I don’t know… seems like it’s a lot of work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl. I have seven bags. That’s nothing. I’ve taken more for a weekend at Chelsea’s!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With another gulp, you stare at him, weirded out. “Yeah. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl approaches you, leaning over, on the opposite side, sipping his water. “I don’t know… it’s too much work to take there. Maybe you should…” he shrugs. “I don’t know… unpack here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sputter your water. “W-what…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. If you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-are you asking me…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He places the bottles on the surface behind him, going around the counter, taking your hands in his. “I… I want you to move in with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your lips curl into several shapes, displaying confusion, joy and astonishment, and all tones of red creeping on your cheeks. “A-are you… are you serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites his bottom lip, resting your hands below his chin. “I am… I-I don’t know why it took me so long to take this step, but… yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?!” your eyes go wide, cupping his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I am very sure. Why wouldn’t I be? I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He silences you with a kiss, slowly deepening it as his arms hook your waist. His lips are warm, his kiss, tender. When pulling away, you stare at him, amazed. “I don’t know what to say…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna sound cheesy here, but… just say yes.” His eyes gleam with hope, waiting for your answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then… yes. Yes!” you throw your arms on his neck swinging him from side to side. “HELL YES!” You can hear his laughter, muffled, after he buries his face in your hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take you’re happy about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me!? Of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile reaches his eyes, luring one from you. “Then… we should probably move to the bedroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already? Wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! That’s…” he laughs, stammering. “I… I was thinking we could unpack and find space for your stuff. What do you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely…” you bite your lip in hopes your smile doesn’t get any wilder, but it’s impossible. “Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoot him a sweet look, tipping your head to the side. “I hope this isn’t about pressure or anything…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I don’t want you to ask me this, unless it is something you really wanna do. Like… don’t do it for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m doing for us. I want you here. You make me…” he pauses, grinning, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You make me feel good. I don’t know… I don’t know if I deserve it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… I love you. So much. Why would I wait any longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… you should be ready for this. It’s a big change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes. “Is this the way you found to say “no” to moving in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please shut up and kiss me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer my question…” he grins, smugly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll answer your question when you kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans over, brushing his lips on yours, slowly massaging your tongue with his, a languid kiss that fires up your senses, your arms looping his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should take this to the bedroom.” He says, pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… you’re really a machine, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant… to unpack…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you have to be so well behaved? What did I ever do to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stammers and you walk away, but not before slapping his backside, biting your lip. “Come on slowpoke! We have stuff to unpack!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches you strut your way to the bedroom, rubbing his ass, his face, incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why is always my pale arse...?"</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He couldn't keep it to himself anymore.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You didn’t call Andrea as much as I thought you would…” you fold a shirt in a perfect square, putting it aside, to form a pile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still called her…” his voice sounds defeated. “Twice a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one expects you to change so drastically, babe… it’s about… baby steps. Besides, you’re entitled to worry about your company. It’s like a… baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, scratching his own knee. “Yeah. I guess… baby steps you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. You have reduced your hours, you planned a trip, worked from home, went on said trip and only called your manager, twice a day.” you lean in, kissing his forehead. “I’m proud of you. You had fun, we explored the pool, the beach…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The shower, the bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” you slap his arm playfully. “I’m talking about vacation… stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… so am I.” he smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my days… anyway…” You sit next to him on the edge of the bed, placing your leg on top of his. “How are you feeling about being home? Are you relieved?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks pensive for a moment before answering, rubbing his shoulder. “Not as relieved as I thought I would be… I enjoyed being there with you. Just us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” your face brightens up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I really did. I think the last time I had a vacation was with my parents. I was 16, I think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa! Seriously?” he nods. “Wow… I’m glad we got to do this then.” you drape your arm on his shoulder. “I hope it didn’t feel like I was forcing you about the trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no!” He raises his arms. “You were right. I needed a vacation. When you said the time in the Villa didn’t count, or the quarantine, I have to agree with you… it was very stressful to deal with so many people, so many choices. Recouplings, people leaving. It was a relief when we won, but then…” He bites his lip, hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl glimpses at you, then turns his gaze to his lap, sighing. “Then everything with us became really serious, really quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your brows, surprised, opening your mouth, but he cuts you short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t bad! Don’t get me wrong. When I said “I love you”, I think I meant it… it’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… you think…?” your eyes narrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was… sudden. I knew I had that feeling for you, but it wasn’t exactly what I planned to do… you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. You know me. I calculate everything, I like collecting data to study it, so I can oversee the outcomes, but with you… I just… I just blurted it out! I wasn’t sure, if I’m honest with you. It just happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see… if you ask me, it was a good thing. If it came out of nowhere, then you had it in you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then…” you eye him, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then everything moving fast like that, I couldn’t help thinking…” he fiddles with his watch, his neck gaining a slight crimson tone. It takes a long moment for him to continue, so you interrupt his process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You thought I had high expectations from you… so… you asked me to move in, on the last day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s eyes go wide, but he nods. “It’s usually the next step, isn’t it? We love each other, so why not ask you to move in with me? Seems logical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle under your breath. He looks confused, still scratching his leg. “Carl. Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he raises his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only the next step if we both feel comfortable about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what… what do you mean? You didn’t…” A light hint of realization dawns on his eyes. “Oh! You’re saying I… jumped the gun there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… yeah.” You laugh at ease. “Pretty much. Don’t get me wrong! I was flattered! But it’s not like I was…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts you short. “You weren’t expecting anything, were you?” You shake your head, perching your lips. “Oh! I’m such an idiot!” he facepalms, deflated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… look. I know there’s a lot going on under the surface, but when we say communication is key, and men are trash at it… well… it’s not just a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be a weak spot.” he lowers his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just think… I would hurt you if I told you the truth that day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You place a warm hand on his knee. “And what was the truth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a moment, breathing deeply, his gaze on the rim of his shirt. “It felt like I had to do some of the things I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… when I asked you to move in, I wanted to do that. But…” he stammers. “B-but… not at that moment… not at the finale…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my gosh! So, you didn’t want to move in with me after only knowing each other for two weeks?! Absurd! Barbaric, even!” you laugh, shaking your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes go wide, with an apologetic tone to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to feel apologetic, Carl. I understand. It was too soon back then. And I can’t emphasize this enough, but I honestly, did not expect you to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t?” his thick brows stay low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me.” you take his hands, brushing his knuckles with your thumb. “I did fall for you… and I felt like saying “I love you” back, but that doesn’t mean I wanted a ring and a moving truck on my doorstep the next day! It meant I was gonna commit to you, and you to me, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he has a confused look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! Look… I know I’m spontaneous, but I’m not dumb. I committed to you, because I love you. But like I said, that’s all I wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… wow… I’m bad at this! Why did I believe them?!” he chuckles, but immediately covers his mouth, trying to change the subject, but you immediately cut him short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold up! Them? Who’s “them”, Carl?” his cheeks blush deeply. “Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… when I asked the guys…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, the guys in the…” he clears his throat. “Villa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod slowly, your blood pumping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, they told me I should do something big!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something big?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… and then I asked them about us…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my days, Carl…” you rub your forehead, counting the names, mentally. “Tell me the names…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he looks at you, apprehensive, lowering his voice. “You know… Bobby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your brows, clearly bothered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gary and Graham…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice bolts from your chest. “Bobby, Gary and Graham? Instead of… I don’t know… Noah!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze falls on you, a crease between his brows. “Noah!” he rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. Yes. Noah! He was probably the wisest there, or the least evil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up from the bed, uneasy. “Why do you have to mention him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know… because he’s the only one who would never mess with you?” you laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paces the room, lost in his thoughts, remembering every single time he caught Noah glancing at you. You call his name, more than once, watching as he goes back and forth, muttering under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl? Babe?” you snap your fingers, catching his attention, snapping him out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tuned out for a minute there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry… you were saying…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said, why not Noah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what…” he raises a fist to his lips, cutting himself short. “Nevermind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. What is it? Why are you pacing like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…” he stops, looking at you, his pale neck gaining a deeper tone of red. “He’s always part of the conversation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always popping up in conversations, conference calls! And you…” he points at you, from a distance, stuttering. “Y-You seem to be getting really… c-close to him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am close to him, Carl. We've been friends since day one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, too close!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at him, taken aback, eyes wide and brows raised. “I’m sorry… seems like you just implied something with that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed, Carl approaches you, licking his lips, angrily. His voice trembles a little. “I-I…” for a moment he looks down as you expect an answer, arms folded on your chest. “I-I don’t like you and Noah… hanging out together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head tips to forward, confusion all over your face. A million responses rush through your head, but only one comes out of your mouth, almost involuntarily. “Sounds like it’s a personal problem, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head, lightly, to the side, still looking at you. “You don’t care that it bothers me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… not that! I don’t care for jealousy. For you to say it bothers you, it’s because you’re insecure about it. And I never gave you a single reason to doubt my loyalty.” You get up from the bed, standing face to face. “If me and Noah being friends bothers you, then yes, it’s your problem, and yours only.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks slowly, then narrows his eyes. His mouth opens and closes, several times, but he gives up, moving to the clothes on the bed, folding one by one, violently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You mirror his movements, just as sloppy, crumpling piece after piece, avoiding his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weight of your words lingers in the air. Neither of you speak for a long time, just unpacking your bags, violently, shoving clothes into disarranged piles, grunting under your breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After several minutes of just the noise of clothes being set, Carl speaks first. His tone, outraged and sudden. “So… you really don’t care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About you being with friends Noah bothering me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, with annoyance. “I really don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t see what he’s doing?!” he throws his arms in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” you cross your arms. “Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, was that a reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe! He’s into you! You’re the only one who can’t see it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is so into you it’s embarrassing! And that’s coming from me! Me!” his eyes, wide, focus on you as he continues. “He’s constantly looking at you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you hear the words coming out of your mouth? So, he’s looking at me?! Whoa! Hopefully he was wearing a condom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please take this seriously!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t! Not when it’s this ridiculous!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl shakes his head, running his fingers on his hair, the strands popping right back in place. “It’s not ridiculous! It’s obvious! The bloke can’t take his eyes off you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a deep breath. “Even if you’re right… you said yourself. He is into me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what? That doesn’t count for anything…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be lying if I said it did.” You join palms, trying to reason with him. “Noah has been nothing but nice to me, Carl!” He tries to interrupt, but you raise your finger before he can. “He was always there for me, and even when we were fighting, he never, not once, mentioned a crush. Never took advantage of any situation!” you breathe with difficulty, watching his head shaking with irritation. “And the fact that you think Noah being into me is an excuse to doubt my loyalty, we better end things here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head up. “W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” You sigh. “That’s right, Carl. I won’t tolerate distrust when I haven’t given any reason for it! I’ve only seen the boy a few times in months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, every time we fought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And whose fault is that?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop on your tracks, realizing the weight of your words. Your lips perch as you look down, taking another deep breath. He stays in silence, biting his lip from saying anything, going back to his chore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look at you, clearly bothered as he tries to hang his shirts, almost breaking a hanger in half, tossing them on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead, Carl. I know what you’re gonna say, and it’s better to just say it already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… have nothing to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, sitting on the bed, burying his face in his hands. “I just know… the way he looks at you… it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah… the way he steals glances… and sm-smiles… I can’t take it! It happens every time! Every time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s looking at me… so…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs again, fiddling with his watch, his head low. “So, he can give you a lot that I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop, mid shoving a shirt onto a pile, staring at the back of his head, shocked. “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he looks at you confused, his eyes gleaming as he turns back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you just say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said… he can… give you a lot that I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You go around the bed, standing in front of him. “Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He perches his lips, wiping under his eyes. “Like patience. Time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Carl…” You kneel in front of him, cupping his chin, a couple of tears rolling on your thumb. “Please, just… listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffs, trying to wipe his cheeks, brushing his hair from his forehead, awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you. Carl. I mean… after all that has happened between us, do you still think I’d leave you for anyone? Are you joking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be, because it doesn’t make any sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, it does. Every time we fight or I’m not around, he’s the one you go to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open a distance between you two. “That’s so unfair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s true, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoff, getting up, continuing your task of crumpling clothes into stacks, or hanging them, more violently than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tell me… it is true!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is! When I was working on the weekend, you drove to Romford to spend the Saturday with him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Clover and Luke!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t know they were there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” his eyes go wide. “Just admit it! It’s true and you know it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lick your lips, frustrated, trying to find the words, but it’s impossible to think with your blood boiling, rushing to your head. Carl’s gaze stays on you, expectant, an undertone of defeat coming through the determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his voice, but the disappointment is still loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always present… and whenever you’re in the same room, he’s…” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “And you… you act all…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All what?” you talk through your teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All… smiles and…” he trails off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to do? Make him not like me? I don’t have magic powers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not taking this seriously…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I? It doesn’t make sense to me… you’re angry about his feelings, you should take it up with him. It’s not my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes you, a mix of devotion and sadness. “Why are you defending him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not! I’m defending myself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his brows, his eyes darkening with sorrow. “Did anything happen between you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my god! Carl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking! Did it? One of those times you went to Romford?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you blame me for thinking that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You respond through your teeth. “YES!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, nothing happened?” he narrows his eyes, approaching as he folds his arms. “Nothing at all? You and Noah never had anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle with exasperation. “Are you accusing me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So far you haven’t answered me. Did you? Did you and Noah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what… I’m so sick of this. That’s just how you function! It’s just your default, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gesture to the space between you. “This! Us! Whenever things get better, you need to go ahead and screw everything up! What’s wrong with you!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s… what’s wrong with me?! You’re defending the bloke and refusing to care about your boyfriend!” Carl picks up a couple of shirts, waving them around. “Boyfriend that just asked you to move in with him...” his voice has the loudest distressed undertone you've ever heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” you pick up your purse, leaving the bedroom. “And is looking for reasons to fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows you down the hallway. “Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn to see him, catching up with you in the living room, by the entrance. “Where do you think I’m going?! I’m going home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, you mean Noah’s house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your fist, throwing it on the door, frustration rippling through the punch. Your tears gleam on the corners of your eyes as you speak, voice trembling. “Say that again, I dare you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches as you shake your hand, your knuckles, purpling. His lips part, feeling the weight of his words hovering you both. “I-I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t wanna believe it before. You know, everything was going so well. You were taking care of yourself, reducing hours… but…” you put a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking at the floor, the tears rolling to your chin. “I really thought you were…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what? Everything I changed wasn’t enough for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You point to your chest, raging tears rolling down, nonstop. “Carl! I appreciate everything you did for me! But why…” your lip quivers as you raise your eyes at him. “Why are you… always looking for reasons not to be happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression softens, gloominess coming across, his eyes misty. “W-w-what…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep doing this. You keep ruining the best parts of us! Whenever we’re advancing, you just… find a reason to ruin it! Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bats his eyes, rapidly, trying to comprehend your words, your statement. His eyes roam on the floor, his lashes holding tears. Carl freezes in place, opening and closing his mouth to speak, but nothing coming out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again. Frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tilt your head, searching for his eyes, expecting at least an apology. His silence is even more frustrating than his accusations. Expectant, you sigh, defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s what I thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against every fiber of your body, and every urge from your heart, you turn on your heel, to reach for the knob, and once again, leave, closing the door behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you step outside, you hope to hear his footsteps following you, maybe his voice, asking you to stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all you can hear is nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Romford</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Call Chelsea, goddamn it!!” you slap your phone, propped in front of you, on the console of your car. “CALL CHELSEA!!” your voice bolts from your chest, uncontrollably, with anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steering wheel receives your frustrated punches, your knuckles sore and throbbing. Wrapping your fingers on it, you bury your face on the honk, a loud noise produced along with a grunt of rage. Your blood boils more and more, with every word you reminisce. It’s hard to focus on turning the key and driving away without being able to call Chelsea. It’s not effective to turn your phone on and off, twice. The call never completes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piece of shit!!” you toss it on the floor of your car, angrily, slapping the front portion of the wheel, multiple times, angry tears rolling to your chin. The street is quiet, calm, not a single person walking by. The storm brewing in your car is isolated, but still audible from the corner. “Fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood rushes through your veins, heating up with every heartbeat, your mind, flooded with possibilities of where to go or what to do. Home doesn’t sound like the right place, and without Chelsea to guide you at this moment, you feel completely lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could drive to her place, and she could be there, or, she could be in Ibiza. It’s a possibility. You never know with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your ears buzz with anger, Carl seems to repeat his words as if he was in the car, leaning over to accuse you, repeatedly. “Who the hell does he think he is?! Cheating? Really?” several deep breaths escape you, the more you remember the fight. “The nerve… the nerve!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands curl into fists, punching the passenger seat to exhaustion, the skin breaks on a couple of spots on the back of your hand, a superficial, but zingy sensation on your knuckles. After multiple hits, a chime comes from under the seat. Carl’s picture, dressed as Spock, appears on your screen. You grab the phone, immediately rejecting the call, keeping the device between your fingers. “Fuck no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of talking to Carl right now is not only painful, but dangerous as well. You have no control over the words that wanna come out of your mouth, and if you do pick up, you will let him have it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some things have to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It buzzes again, and as you look at the screen, there’s no goofy picture of your boyfriend wearing Spock ears. “Unknown number? If this is Carl…” clicking the center button, you hear a sweet voice on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brows lower on your wide eyes. “Noah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Hi.” His sweet voice resonates, giving you a second to breathe. “How is it going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I… I’m not…” you stammer, pinching the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply from your mouth. “What is this number?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m at the library right now. What’s wrong? Your voice seems a little… unsettled.” There’s a sigh following his sentence. “Is there anything I can do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your mouth to speak, but immediately stop. “Erm… no. I’m heading… to erm…” you point to the street, confused about what to say next, muttering under your breath “I don’t know where I’m heading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t… you don’t know?” there’s a smile in the undertone of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not easy to be a fuck up, Noah. It takes a lot!” You chuckle, sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I know all about that. We should exchange information, in the case I’m a better fuck up than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your cheeks flush. “Right… yeah.” Your head tilts to the side, contemplating a possibility of a pub, perhaps a restaurant to eat, alone. “I guess… I guess I’m going home. To my apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where else home would be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah’s question makes you turn your head to see Carl’s house, right behind your car, so quiet and still. “Yeah… you’re right. Anyway. I-I can’t talk right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to. I can stay in line, until you get home. To make sure you’ll get there, safe and sound.” You can just picture a smile through his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious. I work in a library. How much work do you think I actually have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help a laugh, luring one from him. “Noah… seriously? You wanna be my… GPS?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what you need, then… sure. But I won’t know where you’re going, so if I say left, and it’s a wall, make sure you don’t drive into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh at his joke, at ease. “Right. I’ll try my best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, then. Erm… turn right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I thought I was gonna be your GPS!” you can sense his gaze softening as he jokes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about I go home, and we can talk then?” you place your fingers on the keys, ready to turn them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Tempting. How about I drive to your place, and we can order a pizza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stutter in silence, looking for reasons to not have him over. “N-no... s-s-sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? We’re friends. That’s what friends do, right? I owe you a deep conversation since that day… it’s overdue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ponder, tapping your fingers on the console, his offer surely tempting. Especially after Carl’s words. The scale always tips to the “no” side, but as soon as Carl’s image appears in your head, pointing a finger at you, regarding your loyalty, you blurt out your answer. “How about I go to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about I drive to Romford? It’s the same distance. I can pick you up if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The determination on your voice sends Noah into a spiral of confusion. “N-no… that won’t be necessary. I drove here, today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. I’ll see you then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he responds, you end the call, tossing the phone on the passenger’s seat. Carl’s name comes in a notification, a new message hovering the apps on your screen. You swipe to the left, ignoring its content, starting your car, to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it possible that’s raining here?! It’s summer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah rushes from the inside of the house, under an umbrella. “It’s Romford, is what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… like I said before, you should join us in civilization.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffs with a laugh. “You call London civilization?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tip your head up, staring at him. “Where else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at you, squinting, but can’t help a smile, leading you inside his house. “Fair…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” As soon as you step in his house, a warm scent of cinnamon emanates from the rooms. “God, I love this smell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?” he looks around, his gaze following yours as you absorb the details from every corner, a feeling of nostalgia since the last time you were there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s…” you stammer, searching for the word. “It’s warm… welcoming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you think that. You should know…” He puts down the umbrella, close to the entrance. “You’re always welcome here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that! I’m the best guest you’ve ever had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t argue. So…” he rubs his palms. “Anything to drink? Tea, juice, water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scotch.” You stay focused on one of the pieces of art, hanging above the couch. “Neat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He motions to open his mouth, but nods. “A-alright… scotch it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head tips to the side, studying the colors spread on the canvas. The set of shades, warm and tan, balanced with olives and muted greens. “This is quite gorgeous. I never noticed before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… it’s… new.” He hands you a tumbler, the liquid twirling inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… it’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze falls on you, studying your head motions or your voice as you memorize the strokes of the brush. He’s slightly hypnotized by the way you admire the piece of art, tenderly listening to your every observation, his voice soft. “It is gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… so, where did you get it?” you turn to face him, breaking his trance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… I got it as a Christmas present. A colleague of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. They sure have good taste. This painting is brilliant. It’s so calm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns, staring at it. “Yeah... it was… secret Santa. But I really liked it. The first ever not so sucky present I got, in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn your head, eyes roaming the room and it hits you. “Hm. I don’t see the Squiddles around, so I guess art is your thing now?” you mock him, raising your brows, holding the tumbler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har. I’ll have you know, the Squiddles are now in my home office. The second bedroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” you trail off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” he picks up the tumbler from your hand, taking it in his. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you in Carl’s?” the look on your eyes startles him to explain himself. “It’s just… I thought you were on a trip…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa! Straight to the point!” you lick your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t appreciate stalling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lick your lips, narrowing your eyes at him. “Well. If you insist on knowing, we had a fight. A very serious… fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gleam appears on his eyes, but he averts your gaze. “Really? What happened?” he moves to the kitchen, you in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was about y… you know what? It’s not… it’s nothing. I don’t wanna talk about it.” You chuckle sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” he approaches, looking down at you, with his signature affectionate look. “You came all the way to Romford to not talk about it?” You raise your eyes, feeling his fingertips skim yours, his warm hands squeezing them reassuringly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I came here because… well…” you stutter. It’s impossible to not look into his eyes and feel a certain calm. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it is…” he closes the distance a little more. “I’m here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head slowly tips forward, getting closer, his voice serene, sunny. “I’m always here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-Noah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger in your heart dissipates, giving space to a peaceful feeling. Your mind doesn’t feel flooded anymore and you can’t think of a single bad thing to quote. Your heart beats normally, a calm rhythm, the warmth of his hands on yours feels like a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With lips parted, he leans over, leaving no distance between you. His aftershave is fresh and the scent of his cologne, familiar. His forehead touches yours, his voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do anything you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the image from Carl, in his office, rushes through your mind. The touch of his mildly cold hands on your cheek, making you smile when he whispered, right before you were caught by the security guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile to yourself, Carl’s thumb on your cheek, grazing it tenderly, his sweet smile as he kissed you, over and over, right before saying how much he loves you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes open, just in time to see Noah’s lips close to yours, dodging him with an alarmed expression. “No!” you take several steps back, eyes lost on his carpet. “No… no. No. No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah. I’m not…” your lips perch as you raise your hands. “I don’t want you to… I don’t…” without finishing your sentence, you rub your forehead, grabbing the keys from your pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait.” He brushes his fingers on your elbow. “Please, don’t go…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look back at him, every good memory of your friendship suddenly vanishes, giving space to only this moment. The moment he didn’t hold back and made a pass on you. “Carl was right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your inner lip with nervous energy. “Carl… he was right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ab-about what?” his brows furrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About you!” your head tips back as you rub your eyes next. “And… about me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… not following.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know why. Every time I have a fight with Carl, I come here… it’s always… here. Whatever happens in London, I come to Romford. And I didn’t know why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits on the armrest of his couch, fiddling with the rim of his coat. “Is it… is it not because of me? Isn’t that why you come here?” his tone is sad as he asks, avoiding your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” you contemplate lying, sparing his feelings. The thought of hurting someone so sweet it hurts even you, but it’s best to rip off the bandaid. “I can’t lie, Noah. No. I feel…” you clutch your heart. “I feel at ease with you. In peace, you know… but it’s not…” there’s hesitation in your voice. “It’s not at all what I feel with…” you stop yourself, giving him an articulated answer with a firm voice. “It’s not a romantic feeling. It’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I thought you… I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch him, head buried in his hands, shaking it with self-loath. It breaks your heart how his eyes get lost as he looks for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I… did ever give you… that… that impression? Did I... build your expectations?” you search for his eyes, afraid of his answer. “Did I… lead you on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his eyes to you, wiping a couple of tears as he gets up from his seat. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then w-why…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I was hoping...!” he throws his arms with a melancholy in his voice, chuckling with misery. “This entire time.” His shoulders slump. “I thought if I was patient, maybe someday you would see me as… more than a friend. Feel like such an idiot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’ve never seen Noah so altered, besides the day he told you about his sore breakup with Hope. You wanna comfort him. You wanna make sure he’s gonna be ok. But the same way you put your faith in Carl, to resolve his issues as an adult, you’re about to do the same, with Noah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is an adult, and you staying in his place will only make everything worse. Your hand reaches for the knob and you open the door. With a glance back, taking one last look at him, you speak in a low, mournful voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s best if we don’t talk. At least for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a response, the door closes behind you as you follow your path to your car. From the glass, you can see your phone ringing, Chelsea’s picture on the screen, and you hurry to pick it up. “Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, girl!! You called me like a bunch! Who died?!” her voice is perky on the other side of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels… I… hold on.” You place your phone on the prop, taking a seat on the driver’s spot, leaving your hands free to drive away. She waits impatiently. You can almost picture her, pacing wherever she is. As you take a good distance from his house, you restart the conversation. “I just left Noah’s house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was at Noah’s.” turning on the next corner, you sigh. “I… I was at Noah’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound so weird! What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll… you’ll probably give me a lot of shit for this, and I think I deserve it, but… I mean. You’ll never believe what happened!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea’s side goes quiet and you can hear cars and honking. She takes a moment before saying anything, this time, with a calmer, then yet, firm and cold voice. “Let me guess… you and Carl had a fight and you drove to Romford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your mouth to respond, but she continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did… did Noah make a pass on you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hit the brakes, parking the car in front of a random building, taking the phone off the prop. “W-what?! How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am your best friend, aren’t I? Although I can’t say I was sure about Noah’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes! But witchcraft? I thought only Lottie practiced it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har… it’s not witchcraft, bra! Especially because I’m more of a fairy anyway…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, but immediately focus on the point. “That still doesn’t tell me how you knew about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a long and deep sigh. This is a sign for a “brace yourselves, Chelsea is about to rant” kind of moment. She speaks rapidly, and you can picture her, gesturing wildly, frowning and pouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Every time you and Carl fight, you run off to Romford, or at least call Noah! Every goddamn time! Even though I’m right here! You keep running off to another guy and Carl might be…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on! First! It’s rare you’re in England! You’re always scattered across the planet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright! But still…” She takes a deep breath. “If Carl pointed it out, I’m not the one to tell you he’s wrong!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice is hesitant as you look around the busy street. Your pause lures one from Chelsea, who stays in silence for a moment, too. She takes a deep breath, the noise in the background, of her side of the line, fading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl… you don’t know why you feel so drawn to Noah. You only see him as a friend, but probably deep down you suspected he had a crush on you, never acted on it because he wanted to be respectful, and when you and Carl were going through a rough phase, he was constantly there. But as soon as you and Carl made amends, he disappeared. He never called again, at least, not as frequently. And now, it’s a serious fight, and you drove to Noah’s, because you had to see for yourself, and that only proves that Carl… was right…. By pointing it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does make sense, but she’s missing a very important detail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl accused me of cheating on him, Chelsea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“EXCUSE ME?!” Her voice bolts, making you distance your ear from the phone. “He did what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! He kept asking me “So, nothing happened? Nothing at all?” you do a mocking impression of your boyfriend, anger in every letter. “You and Noah never had anything?! Argh! I wanted to punch him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you?! He deserved it! Argh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I almost did… I punched the door!" You look down at the recent wounds on the back of your hand, pensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?! Oh my god! I mean, I get it… you and Noah were never a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so angry at him!!” you punch the wheel. “So fucking angry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts on a more tender voice, trying to calm you down through the call. “H-How… how about this? I’ll drive to your place and we can talk it out…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s drink it out! Something! I’m gonna let you stay like this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” your head tips back, resting on the car seat as you try to tune out the buzzing in your ears. “That sounds… that sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright… I’m on my way. I might get there in a couple of hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Chels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles through her next words, starting her car. “Don’t mention it. Now go. Drive home, and when you get there, take a bath, I have my spare key.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. See ya soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Chelsea drives away from the parking spot, her phone rings, the picture of her and Carl, wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, pop on the screen. Hesitant, she cringes, clicking to ignore the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof… that was close.” She laughs nervously but is interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chelsea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes go wide, and she stays in silence, slapping her own forehead, seeing she pressed the wrong button.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Rough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>---- This chapter is entirely from Carl’s perspective---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pace, a constant pit in your stomach, reminding you to breathe. Chelsea responds hesitant. “Oh, hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… can… can we talk?” your voice is low, a hint of sadness as you continue to pace the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… I’m… I have a meeting with a client right now...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… ok.” The deflation in your tone makes her open her mouth to speak, but you cut her short. “That’s cool. I’ll just go to the office… yeah. It’s cool. Thanks anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” she pulls over on a quiet corner, a deep sigh escaping her through the noises from the street. “W-what’s going on, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing your forehead, you keep scratching the top of your head, your nerves causing your voice to tremble with every word. “I… I think I screwed up. Like… for good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can hear her, gritting her teeth, her friendly voice almost forced. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… my head is still spinning!” your arms gesture wildly as you explain the whole afternoon you had, from asking her to move in, to the moment she stormed out. “We were folding clothes, and we started talking… I don’t know… everything moved so fast. On one moment, we were happy to move in together, and on the other…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! You’re moving in together?!” she interrupts you with a loud tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. She didn’t tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was this?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today… after we got back from the airport.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… maybe that’s why there were so many missed calls from her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no! I’m pretty sure that’s my fault. She must’ve been calling you because of our fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really? Why?” Chelsea does her best, but can’t quite hide the lying tone of her question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… I think I accused her…” your tone decays, reaching sadness. “… of cheating on me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” she doesn’t react the way you thought she would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels… aren’t you gonna say something? Be pissed at me! I accused her…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right! Yeah… you! You… son… of a bitch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With realization, you put your hand in your pocket, chuckling sadly. “She told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tip your head back, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t know where she is. She’s not picking up my calls and she’s not at her place, either. ‘Cause if she is, she’s really good at ignoring the bell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea laughs. “Yeah, she’s not there yet, dummy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what do you mean by “yet”? She left my house over an hour ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-w-what…” she stammers in panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brows furrow, your heartbeat spiking. “Chelsea. Where is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s… at the gr-grocery store.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grocery store?” your voice becomes raspy with anger. “Hm, let me guess. In Romford?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then where, Chelsea?” you speak through your teeth. “She’s in Romford, isn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hang up the phone, biting your lip with anger, leaving Chelsea in despair, dialing your girlfriend’s number, but no success. Her phone was turned off, blocking Noah’s attempts of talking to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea scoffs in her car, shaking her head. “You, dumbass!” she facepalms, then punches the wheel, several times, with a light fist. “I’m such an idiot!” throwing her hands in the air, she tries your number again. No success. “For fuck sake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She immediately turns the key, driving to Romford.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, as you stare at the sidewalk, the borders broken and the dark grey from the asphalt being renovated, you contemplate if you should go home, or stay by her building, waiting to confront her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the thought of accusing her, and the first place she drives is Romford boils your blood so badly, you grunt with frustration. You can’t wait for her to come to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You need to go to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a loud thud, you slam your car door and immediately turn the key, to drive away. Adjusting your seat and propping your elbow on the edge of the window, you keep mumbling, crossly, under your breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can’t believe her! I can't believe him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although you’ve never been to Noah’s house, it seems like the car drives itself there. Chelsea’s number keeps popping in your phone, but you turn it off, determined, speeding up to catch the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The welcome sign makes you scoff as you advance to his place. The street is quaint, very residential, filled with twinned houses and piquet fences. Just disgustingly family-appropriated. The cars parked on the fronts are either mini vans or sedans, no in-between, plenty of people getting home, at this hour, name tags and ties, with sighs and fake smiles as they walk towards their doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at his front door, the idea of going home almost being screamed in your head, as if a miniature of yourself, a much more sensible version of you, was telling you to go back, before sending everything to shambles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But something on the surface doesn’t let you think straight. Your stomach burns, heart thumping in your chest. Every time you caught him stealing a glance, or a laugh, or a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time he was inconsiderate with you and flirted with her, and you couldn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of watching as they would talk, laugh, and have just the best time always bothered you, but it was never to the point of confrontation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, thinking, too hard, about what to do. You drove there for a reason, and you should go with your gut. Enough is enough, and if she drove there as well, after being accused by you, you need to hear the reasoning from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was completely oblivious about your feelings, and even laughed at it. And after you accused her of cheating, she goes straight to his house?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You have to ring that bell. You have to see for yourself, even if it hurts you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are footsteps coming from inside as soon as you press your finger on the doorbell. Noah opens the door with a relieved smile, but it vanishes when he sees you, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… w-what are you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can finish his sentence, you feel an impulse in your arm. Your hand, already curled into a fist, raises, out of your control. Your torso follows the flow of your hand and elbow, reaching Noah’s face, with a hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel your knuckles hitting the bridge of his nose as your stomach burns with anticipation, the punch causing him to tip back, his nose dripping blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You never punched anyone in your entire life. You wish you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand hurts. No one ever tells you how your hand hurts from the blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The librarian tumbles, holding back the blood from his nose. He doesn’t say anything, but leaves the door open, frantically searching for tissues in his living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your wrist, airing the skin of the back of your hand, the bones going sore and warm. You had no idea a punch would hurt you more than it hurt the receiver. “Ow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah takes a seat, his head on the backrest of his couch, soaked tissues going on the coffee table, his breathing painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hold your punching hand between your fingers, now trying to relieve the burning sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in.” his voice is muffled. He nods at the room, still holding a ball of tissues above the cupid’s bow of his mouth. “Go on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You awkwardly step in, eyes roaming on the tan furniture, or the muted pieces of art scattered around the walls. Still feeling the pain, your hand warming up fast as you scan the room, in hopes to see her. your gaze avoids his as you pace to the opposite side, cocking your head down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not here.” His mumbling is barely audible behind his hand. “Not anymore, anyway.” You advance, raising your fist again, in a surge of anger, but he raises his arm. “Whoa! Calm down!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I?” your jaw clenches as you get ready to throw another one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… she left!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still doesn’t erase the fact that she was here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes everything for you to let your fist relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok!” he raises his hands, defensively, his nose dripping like a faucet. “She was here… but we never… she never…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She never what!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looks painful for him to sigh, but you don’t pity him, one bit. “She never… wanted anything… to do with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First moment of the day, you’re baffled with the information thrown at you. “W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, why don’t we go to the kitchen first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice, man.” he nods at your knuckles. “Ice.” Noah gets up from the couch, head tipped back as he holds more new tissues against his nose. You in tow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen is quite small, two short counters and a round dining table on the corner. He opens the fridge to grab the ice tray, filling a dish towel, handing it to you. Reluctantly, you take it, putting it on your own, relieving the soreness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna say thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t expect you to, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both stand there, wincing. Whether from the pain or from the sheer, pure uncomfortable moment, you two shift on your feet, trying the best you can to look indifferent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl. Just…” Noah sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t. You really don’t.” he tosses the tissues in the garbage can, grabbing more, but before containing the blood, he props on his hands, back turned to you. There’s a hint of regret in his voice as he continues to speak. “When she came here today… I thought… she had that fight with you and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens and closes his mouth, several times, before being able to give you an answer, now facing you with arms on the sides of his body. “ I’ll admit. I don’t even think I fooled anyone this past year. And I did… I did everything I could to stay away from her, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you didn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did! Last time I saw her was that conference call… back in quarantine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Before that, it was the Reunion… and I just… Carl… I’m really sorry for what I did today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The million memories, and thoughts, rushing through your mind stop. Your eyes stare at him as your voice comes out, suspicious. “Wait. What? What did you do?” your heart starts beating fast again, your feet taking you closer to his spot, almost out of impulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” he stammers, embarrassed. “Sh-she didn’t tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t talked to her.” your nostrils flare as you move even further. “What did you do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” his cheeks are flushed, and he lowers his hand from his nose. “I went in… for a kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” you drop the improvised ice bag, almost bolting from where you stand, tossing the dish towel on the floor. “What the hell?” you try to fight the urge of throwing another punch, but your hand is already hovering, your arm muscles twitching with rage. It takes you everything you have to not ruin his eye at that moment. Before you can act on it, he continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry! I’m… I feel terrible!” his voice bolts from his chest, a tone you never heard from him, before. “I do! She ran the other way! I just…” he shuts his eyes, sighing. “I thought she would… but I was wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She dodged me. She was looking at me like I was… Carl. I’m really sorry. I let my feelings for her talk louder.” He gestures to himself, a weakness behind his eyes. “I’m not this guy. I’m not.” He keeps muttering under his breath. “I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stand there, pensive, trying to picture his story. How she drove over to his house, and still, refused him, dodging his kiss, leaving him alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was this… the first time?” you ask, leaning on the sink, pressing your knuckles against the cold surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, lips perched. “Yeah. It was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you never tried anything before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Never. I just watched you guys get together…” he lets a gloomy chuckle out. “Fall in love...” His head hangs forward, droplets of his bloody nose running on his shirt. “She loves you, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your head, your eyes meeting his, for the first time since your blow. The dejection in his speech is unprecedented. “She really does. She was never even close to feel anything for me… that isn’t friendship. She feels calm with me…” your eyes gain darkness, but he continues. “… because I was supposed to be a close friend. That’s all I am to her. A friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah sits on one of the chairs by the round table, licking his lips, tapping his fingers on the wooden top. “I don’t know why I thought I would have a chance. She was always there for me, but never…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a seat across from him, still taken aback. He continues with a more somber tone of voice. “She even asked me if she gave me that impression. If she ever led me on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she?” you bite your inner lip, almost wishing you were deaf, afraid of the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cradles his face in his massive palms, breathing loudly through his words. “No. Never. I was the stupid one. I’ve been in denial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees your confusion, explaining his thought, his leg twitching with nervous energy. “I didn’t wanna believe I didn’t have a chance. I guess I thought one day… you and her wouldn’t last and… she would magically appear by my door.” He shakes his head with a sad chuckle. “How delusional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help but pity him. Noah has always been the prime example of composure, patience, solitude. As he gets up from the chair, putting ice into another dish towel, he turns to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what else to tell you. Except for “I’m sorry”. I crossed the line and you were partly right. She did feel drawn to me. But it was never attraction, or love… or anything that I wished for. Hell, she might see me as a brother.” He pauses. “Well, might’ve seen me as… not anymore. Probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your anger slowly fades through your deep breathing. You can feel your shoulders, lighter, squaring back in their place, not so tense anymore. Fiddling with your sleeve, the fingertips, in one piece, touch the cold metal of your watch. Your knuckles, swollen and in a deep tone of red, lure a laugh from you. Noah’s head tips forward, looking for the reason for your laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if realization dawning on you, you speak, with disbelief. “I… I punched you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods slowly, holding the icy towel on his nose. “You did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've never punched anyone in my entire life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could’ve fooled me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh…” you stare at the back of your hand, stretching your fingers. “I didn’t think I could. It was never… I was never so angry, or so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Passionate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look at him, roaming your eyes on the bloody spots of the towel. “I guess… I don’t think I ever felt this alive, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “Punching someone must be thrilling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the punch.” You rub your temples for a moment, your foot tapping the leg of the chair. “Her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah raises his brows, taken aback. You notice, massaging your temples, feeling the blood flow easier, now folding your arms over your chest. “She makes me feel… so alive. I was… I was living in autopilot for so long… you know, ever since…” you trail off, eyes lost on the counter next to the sink, the sun setting behind the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when?” he retracts right after. “If you don’t mind me asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since…” you search for your memories, impossible to pin down a specific time of your life. “Since forever.” You share a chuckle, but immediately fades into the silent kitchen. “I never felt so… so free. So good about myself...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why… trying to ruin that?” he catches your focus with a louder voice. “You have her. She loves you more than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She stayed with you! After everything… the whole… working too much, bags under your eyes, never seeing each other.” He bangs the side of his hand on the table, reinforcing his point. “She stayed with you. You’re the guy she wants. Come on, no one else stands a chance!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes reflect the colors from outside as you get lost in thought. The last year flickering in small moments in your mind, a sense of defeat taking you. You lower your head on the table, your cheek against the cool surface, your breathing forming a puddle of fog right under your nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a fucking idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs. “We both are. For very different reasons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call her, it’s not that difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s harder than you think.” You motion to get up from the chair, walking towards his living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so difficult about dialing a number?” He walks after you, towards the entrance, where the door is still open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dialing is not exactly the problem…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrug, shaking your head. “There’s more than…” you cut yourself short. If there’s a moment and a person to talk about your feelings, it’s definitely not right now, and definitely not the guy that made a pass on your girlfriend. “I…” you click the trigger for the alarm of your car, opening the door. “I gotta go, Noah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates about reaching for you, but lets you go, without a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Boss! You forgot your wallet on my desk!” Raf runs to the lobby, panting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks.” He delivers it to you, his scrawny hands resting on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, his dreads glued to his forehead. “Raf… you need to exercise more.” You stifle a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… it’s what my mom keeps saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have the gym across the street. What’s your excuse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs with a grin. “No excuse. I’m not into it!” He turns on his heel, catching the elevator to go back up to the office, waving his mom by the door. Andrea shakes her head, holding the passage for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… he’s too young to be that inactive!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say that like laziness only happens to a certain age...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle. “No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “Anyway! Where do you wanna go? There’s… Kiln, Hamley’s on the other side, Garfunkel’s…” She trails off, looking at both sides of the street, to cross it. “Boss!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…?” you raise your eyes from your phone, after searching for new messages. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea nods at your hand with perched lips. “Nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She will call. I know she will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been two days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I stopped trying to call her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” she hisses, immediately retracting as she sees your sad expression. “I’m sure she will call you. Or you know… drop by… maybe…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, she will. It’s only been a week!” sarcasm drips in your words. “I don’t know what to do. I really screwed up and I can’t even…” you sigh, sadly. “I can’t even tell her how sorry I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what you told me, perhaps you should give her some space. It was… quite brutal, what you said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to kick a dead dog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just…” she raises her hands. “I’m just saying. Don’t feel so anxious. Maybe she’ll be calling you once she’s ready. On the other hand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head to the side. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t say what you wanted to hear. If things happened the way you told me, and I do think they did, she has as much to apologize as you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your wide eyes stare at Andrea. “Y-you think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying. What you did was terrible, but she could have handled this better, Carl. If she’s the sensible person in the relationship, not giving you a straight answer is not exactly productive.” She raises her palms. “I’m not saying she’s wrong! Because it hurts to be accused of something. But she did handle it poorly, and she did go to Romford right after the fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what…” you exhale sharply from your mouth. “What do you think I should do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… might not be the best to give advice.” She purses her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on Dea! You already started! Please! Help me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost automatic for her to take initiative to assist you, whenever you need. “Look… if you feel inclined to go to her, maybe you should.” Your eyes stay on hers, perkily, but her finger wiggles in the air with a warning energy. “But you should tell her how you’re feeling, as well, Carl. You do know it’s not only about her happiness, right? It’s about yours, too. If you’re still hurt about what she said or did, you’re entitled to say it so.” she watches the cars go by, sighing. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t waste any time. It’s already been a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, looking at both sides of the street, getting ready to go. A biker passes by, almost hitting you. “Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” as you advance on the sidewalk, your eyes roam on the noisy street. The façade of Konditor, on the next corner, brings a gleam to your eye. “Dea… can you… take care of everything for the rest of the day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… sure. But what…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can finish her sentence, you bolt towards the garage, rushing to your parking spot, getting your car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. O’Sullivan? Are you leaving?” the entrance guard checks his watch, startled. “It’s… noon…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” You laugh, closing the door, driving away. “See you tomorrow, Dario.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s cool. All you have to do is ring the bell… it’s cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a package in hands, you get out of your car, heading to the entrance gate. The panel with the apartment bells brings a certain nostalgia. It’s been months since you went to her building, on a happier note. Between the Reunion, the Holiday party and the Quarantine, the very last time you went there, while in a good place, you were wearing Spock ears, catching the attention of her older neighbors. It makes you realize how frequently she was coming and going to your house, and how little you were repaying the gesture. You raise a hand, hovering a finger on the number 1250, shaking, slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull yourself together!” you mumble to yourself, pressing the button, letting go of all restraining or fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” her voice, sweet, lures a nervous smile from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hi…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallow dry, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “Y-yes. It’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What…” she sighs with what seems to be relief. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” you turn your head to see a couple of prying ladies, next to you, cocking their heads to eavesdrop. Your voice raises in volume. “Do you mind?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” she asks, shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-not you. Some…” the ladies scatter, going to the other side of the entrance, muttering cuss words under their breath. “Just… gossipers… that have nothing better to do!” you direct your speech, hearing more cussing coming from the old ladies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… Carl…” she chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Sorry. Erm… so, I came here because I wanted to talk to you… about us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came here…” you clear your throat. “I came here to tell you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me? Tell me what?” she sounds confused, but you can’t blame her. Still, she buzzes you in before you even start the phrase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-right… I’ll just… I’ll just go up… you’re not listening anymore.” You throw a dismissive hand, holding your gift in your arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you step out of the elevator, you see the shadow of her door, open. She appears on the doorstep, bags under her eyes. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” You approach her, not really knowing how to act or what to say at first, noticing the dark circles . “Are you… alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sniffs, running her hand on her hair. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Her eyes roam on your hand. “Why is it that every time you come here, you have a package?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… I guess… I’m always apologizing for something.” you seem to get a chuckle from her, as she looks at the floor, arms folded. You smile, tipping your head to the side. “C-can I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Sure!” She steps aside for you to go in, closing the door behind her. “So… do you want anything to drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… no… maybe… yeah, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make up your mind, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile. “No. Nothing for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a seat on the chair, angled to the couch, where she gestures for you to sit. “So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… I brought you this.” You put on a weak smile, placing the bag on the coffee table, pulling up a container from inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… oreo cheesecake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… th-thank you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be thankful for it, just yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyes you suspiciously, her head leaning forward. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It probably blows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her laughter is contagious as she eyes you, tenderly. “Then why bring it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… I had fun making it. And I know you love it… and I couldn’t think of any other excuse to come here, in the middle of the afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She licks her lips, nodding slowly. “Carl, I don’t know what you thought… but the cheesecake is a good excuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You know how I love cheesecake!” she licks her lips. “So, you wanted to talk about…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us. I wanted to talk about us.” you put on a brave face, even though you tremble on the inside, afraid of speaking up. You don't feel brave. Not even close. The thought of telling her what you went there to say hurts you, deeply. But it's the right thing to do. You lace your fingers, tilting your torso forward, trying your very best to speak in a collected voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve made a decision about us, and I hope you understand where I’m coming from.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You stare at him, the crease between your brows growing deeper. “Umm… ok…” afraid of his next words, you gently slip your leg under your hips. “So… what is the decision?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snaps his tongue, taking a deep breath. His expression is somewhat troubled, and even though he stands a collected posture, you know him better than that. “Before I tell you, I just wanted to make sure we’re in a good place.” You open your mouth to speak, but he shakes his head with a tender look. “Let me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop, surprised, chuckling with embarrassment. He picks up from the last sentence, talking in a concerned tone. “I don’t want you to think that I was pressuring you after our fight. I called you because I wanted to set things straight.” As he moves on with his speech, his shoulders seem to relax a bit, and his voice, less trembly, talks in a deep tone, yet caring. “I wanted to apologize to you. And I wanted to explain, once and for all, where I was coming from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… what do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands run on his hair and you notice his fingertips, intact. “Thing is… the whole situation… with Noah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me talk.” He rubs his eyes for a moment, his skin shining under the pale tone. You seal your lips, almost impressed with his imposing. “I crossed a line, that day. I know I did. However… I don’t regret asking you about him or where you were standing with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” you lower your head, playing with the straps of your robe. “I never gave you a reason… never gave him any hopes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I didn’t know that.” He sighs. “And when I asked you, you mocked me. You made fun of what I was asking you, instead of taking it seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an urge to repeat your words from that day, and how you couldn’t take it seriously, but that’s exactly what hurt him, so you fight it, staying quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If one of those times you were vulnerable because of a fight, or because I was working late again, made you drive there, made you stay the day, or anything… I’ve…” he hesitates. “I spent the whole year thinking about the way he was looking at you, and the possibility of him being something you wanted. I was scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes stop at him. As your head leans forward, you reach for his hands. “Never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still. It was either through the phone or going there in person. Noah was the first one you would reach when you needed a friend. And I thought that meant… I thought you had finally seen he was a better match than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better match?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought this entire time. To me, this impulse of going after him was more than just friendship. It was…” He shrugs with low energy. “So, when I talked to Chelsea, I knew. After a while you left, I came to your place, and… you weren’t picking it up. That moment I knew where you were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… did you…?” you look at him, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. I went there. And… I needed to confront you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Conf… oh my days, Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws his arms with a larger shrug. “I had to! Something inside of me just… flipped! It made me go there… I was angry, upset!” The image of Carl driving to Romford, to find you, keeps playing in your head as he tells the story. “And you weren’t there! You weren’t… you were, but then, y-you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.” You take a long breath. “Did Noah tell you why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… let me get this straight. You went there, to confront me, and I wasn’t there, then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left. We talked in the kitchen, put some ice on our injuries, but I left almost right after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait, w-wait… hold up. Back this… w-wait, what?!” you stammer, hard, not being able to form a sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left almost right after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not that part! Clearly, not that part!” you pinch thumb and index finger, disbelief in your stutter. “Inj-injuries, you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that part. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh nervously at his casual tone, expecting a full story. He grazes his thumb on his knuckles, discreetly. “I’m not proud of this… but I did… I assaulted him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did what!?” your jaw drops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… it’s not important. What is important is why I’m here, what I have to say” He watches as you shift on your seat, visibly baffled. “I’ll make sure to include details of my assault in another time, but for now, I just wanted to apologize, and to tell you…” Carl pauses, cradling his head in his hands, visibly building up the courage to speak his next sentence. “I love you. So much.” his eyes, lost on your carpet as he goes on lures a turn in your stomach. When he raises his head, his voice is emotional and sweet. “But what I did that day… the whole jealousy episode, going after you, assaulting someone, and still, being… so angry! I…” he pouts, wiping a tear under his eyes. “That’s not who I am. I’m not the type that goes off like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” You show him a solidary smile. He is right. He always thinks three, four, maybe five times, before saying or acting on anything. It doesn’t sound like him to sprint towards a different town, to confront someone, and even worse, to assault them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the fact that I did, the fact that I lost control like that, it might mean I need to…” he sobs. “I might need some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Automatic tears grow on the corners of your eyes. “W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze stays on yours, gleaming with the same intensity, his lips quivering as he continues. “I love you. More than I could ever imagine loving someone… but you taught me I should put myself first… above my company… and… above... above you.” his tears fall on his shirt, leaving a darker spot of grey on the fabric. “I know I made a mistake, and I want to apologize for it. And make sure you understand I comprehend how brutal I was.” He sniffs awkwardly. “But you weren’t better… I was hurt, and you didn’t think how that was affecting me. How hurt I was when I asked you about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He perches his lips, holding back more tears, rubbing his eyes. “It took me everything not to explode that day, and I did! I couldn’t hold it in anymore. And instead of giving me reassurance, you…” he chuckles sadly. “You… didn’t. You were offended, and I understand why, but you… you were only thinking about yourself. And you did go there. You did drive to Romford, even though our fight was exactly about that! Can you imagine how it felt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, slowly, blinking away the tears on your lashes. “Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me what happened. About you rejecting him and… leaving… but still.” He sniffs again. “I was hurt, knowing you were there in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…” You lower your head, licking your lips. “I don’t know what came on to me. I honestly don’t… I was so angry. So… out of my mind. Deep down, I wanted to go back, I wanted you to ask me to stay, but… you didn’t…” you can’t help your wet cheeks, flushing with intensity. “I didn’t care if Noah had feelings for me. I cared that you accused me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m truly sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thing is… I understand how mad you were, but you needed to hear this from him, and not from me, to believe in it. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back on the couch, moving his torso, trying to form a sentence. “I… I don’t know. You weren’t denying it. And you didn’t answer the question... I lost it…! I thought I would confront you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lower your brows, sliding your palm on your forearm, vulnerable. “But if I did… I don’t think you’ve believed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoots you a sad look. “Yes, I would’ve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw the way you were looking at me. You… wouldn’t. And that’s what… hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence falls, almost taking your breaths away. Carl stays still, not being able to face you, and you avert his gaze. Both of you realize the weight of your mistakes, pondering about your fight, going through word by word, trying to make some sense of what that day was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, pulling his hair back. “You know… when we talked in the kitchen, I told him I… I never felt so alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I don’t know what you did, but just a slap does things to a person…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said the same thing, sort of. I corrected him. It wasn’t about me… assaulting him. It was about... you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I never felt so… alive. You… have that effect on me. I feel competent. Capable. But I also felt angry, and couldn’t stop myself from doing something stupid.” There’s a certain regret in his voice, even though he tries his best to smile. “It felt good, but… I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve stayed in my house. I guess I was tired of feeling… I don’t know…” he squints, staring down at his lap. “Powerless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-powerless? You were feeling…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I didn’t wanna cause a scene or have a fight, so I just… swallowed everything and kept quiet. I guess this is something I do, quite often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” You contemplate reaching for his hands, but he looks unruffled, not shifting awkwardly as he usually does. He’s stiff in place, chest tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know where or when I became someone that just... loses control like that. I don’t wanna be that person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think either of us want you to be like that, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scratches his ear. “That’s why I need some… time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It races your heart as soon as he says it. But you understand where he comes from, even if you’re also hurt. To be able to resolve it, today, would be everything you were hoping for, but the issues you’re facing run deeper than just a couple’s fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never in your life you fought back tears like you do, now. To look as composed as you want to, and to give him some reassurance that you’ll be ok, is the hardest thing to do at this moment. Knowing he’ll walk out of your apartment, not knowing when you’ll be seeing him again, hurts more than you thought it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for your reply, cupping his own chin. You notice his posture and can sense his heartbeats from where you’re sitting. That’s how well you know him. He even has beads of sweat on his temples, and as he tries to breathe through his words, you blink slowly, talking with a calmer voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did tell you to put yourself first. It would be wrong of me not to accept you taking care of yourself, after all the time we fought over that. Your mental health is just as important as your physical health. So…” you sniff, gently. “If that’s what you need, I won’t say anything on the matter. I would rather have you far from me, taking care of yourself, than with me, and suffering…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze falls on you, shocked and kind. It takes him a moment, stammering under his breath, to actually be able to speak a full sentence again. “I wouldn’t be suff… I’m sorry to ask you this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be sorry. You really shouldn’t.” You tip your head back, tears rolling towards the roots of your hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence following your words is almost as devastating as Carl, in the kitchen, trying to cook. He doesn’t look directly at you, but still catches a glimpse of your weeping from the corner of his eyes, fighting every urge not to reach for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere, down your path, you both fell in love with the idea of being together, and the efforts that went into that were made by both of you. You, not giving up on his health, him, trying to be more caring about himself. Both of you, learning new things, together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s no formula as to what a relationship should look like. As much as his nerdy self would love to, there’s no possible way of calculating love, people or sentiments. There’s two people, and the life they share. Whatever is between, it’s their responsibility of finding out how to live it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s learning all that, the hard way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In hopes to break the silence, you nod at his arms with a weak laugh. “Chelsea went there after you left, but she didn’t tell me anything about you leaving some damage behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks flush as he stares at his knuckles. “I’m sorry. I n-never felt the urge to fight anyone before. Never, in my life…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you didn’t need to tell me that, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. ‘Cause I’m a nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” you chuckle, kindly. “Because you’re sweet.” He shoots you a curious, surprised look. “You’re the type of guy to talk things out. To understand a problem and find the solution. A practical solution. Have you seen your arms? You could take ten Noah’s if you wanted to! It’s your brain that doesn’t let you... and your heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, still, eyes misty. For a moment, he lingers on your words, his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward, staring at the package on the coffee table. His mouth opens and closes, several times. The tension hovering the room can be felt by the people walking down the street of your building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, he hesitantly forms a phrase, avoiding your eyes. “It’s… true. You’re right. I only believed nothing happened when he told me. To be honest… I don’t know why I acted that way.” He sighs deeply with a troubled expression. “I’m… tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” you turn to see him, his back now leaning on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired. Tired of ruining things for me, for you. Tired of feeling like I have expectations to reach. I don’t want to push you away. I mean, I already did, but I don’t want you to think I don’t love you.” His eyes roam to yours. “Because I do. So, so much. I’ve always wondered what certain songs and lyrics meant. And I don’t mean to be cheesy or anything, but the feeling I have for you, this… this sentiment… it’s beyond me.” He shakes his head rapidly as if he was trying to comprehend a very long equation. “I don’t understand it. I don’t know how to deal with it and I… can’t stop feeling it… I don’t wanna stop feeling it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your inner lip, watching him as he gets lost in his words. “I don’t know what to tell you, Carl. I don’t have the answer. I wish I did. I wish I could draw a formula or a code for us to use, but I…” you trail off, taking a deep breath, tears falling on your lap. “I don’t have it. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. I’m still learning…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you know everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, I wish…” your eyes roam on his. “You’re right. I did hurt you, too. And I don’t know why I did what I did… just… why are we such fuck ups?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both share a brief laugh, gazes falling on the package on the coffee table. Carl glances at you, a slight smile on the corner of his mouth as he nods at the bag, with a sorrow in his voice. “I tried making it, but like I said, it probably blows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You get up from your seat, drawing his attention as you walk down the short hallway to the kitchen, grabbing spoons from the kitchen, handing him one. “Here. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes the shiny spoon, and as you open the container, an immediate scent of vanilla and chocolate fills the room. “Don’t get excited by the smell…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a spoonful, offering it to you, completely deflated. The moment the cream enters your mouth, its flavor hits your tongue, a deeply bitter smack, teasing a grimace. One of your eyes twitch as, somehow, the bitter turns into a sour, sharp taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches your face contorting in different manners, even though you try your best to hide it, your fake humming slowly turning into a grunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… no! Spit it out!” he grabs more tissues from the box, opening them in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My god! How did you manage to…?" You gesture to the dessert, baffled. “To… to fuck up a cheesecake! It’s even the right consistency!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” he shrugs, tossing the tissues into the bag. “I honestly…” he laughs, shyly. “I tried!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl… this is the worst thing I’ve ever eaten!” a bashful chuckle escapes you. “By far! It really… sucks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hisses with a smile. “That bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it!” you take the spoon full of cream, and as he takes a bite, he raises his brows, his chin burying itself in his neck, several disgusted sounds coming from him, along with his twitchy eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no! No! That’s…” he spits it in the container, wiping his mouth. “That… is vile!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stifle a laugh, biting your lip. “Yeah! It really blows!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My god!” he laughs with frustration. “How bad at this can a person be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently… a lot!” you cover your mouth, cackling, shutting your eyes. He looks at you, letting go of his inhibitions, laughing as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I thought I could… wow… it’s terrible!” he examines the container, tossing in the bag, a bitter aftertaste in your mouths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really is! I can’t lie!” you fall to the couch, laughing, the bitter-sharp-sourness of the dessert lingering on your tongue. “I need something to get this devilish taste off my tongue!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on… I’ll go get something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s ok…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I insist!” he smiles. “It’s the least I can do. Seriously.” He heads to the kitchen, opening your fridge, grabbing two cans of soda. As he hands it to you, his thumb touches the heel of your hand, a short electric current running on your arm. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” You shudder, your laugh fading as you snap the beverage open, taking large gulps from it. “Oh, that’s much better!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He studies the can, taking a coy sip. Suddenly, the room falls silent, drawing you to continue chugging on your soda, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. The unpleasant noise of swallowing is the only sound echoing around you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts the can on the coaster, getting up from the couch. “Maybe I should go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks towards the door, apprehensively glancing at you. “Yeah. It’s… yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl.” You follow him to the door, grabbing the keys that fell from his pocket, a small Spock keychain dangling in your grip. “Here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to grab the keys from your hand, same electrical current teasing a spike of your heart beats. You look down at his fingertips, proudly smiling to see them fully recovered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen… I’m with you. About what you said. We should get a time apart…” you graze the back of your hand on your temple. “I just wanna say… we might need to stay away from each other for a while, to figure these things out… but…” you let out silent tears as you try to keep your voice still. “Just so you know… I really, really love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He motions to raise his hand but stops mid-way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… love you too. And you have… no idea…” his sniffs are frequent as he bites his tears. “… how much I already miss you. And if it was a different time, maybe we would just brush it off, and stay the way we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t.” your misty eyes find his as you talk, almost telepathically. “Anyway… erm… I hope we can get better at this… yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles sadly, the saddest you’ve ever heard as he reaches for the knob, ready to leave. But before he opens the door, he turns to you, the feeling of hope invading your heart as he smiles. “I’ll make sure Raf brings your things from my house. I know there’s a lot of stuff there, that you like… and well… I would like you to have them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deflated, you nod, hiding the disappointment in your eyes. “Right… of course. My things…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, his face crumples into a knowing expression. “I-I didn’t mean to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s ok. You’re right. I need my things.” Your eyes roam to your feet as your voice, serious, finish your thought. “Tell Raf to leave them with the concierge. I might not be here when he comes around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face lights up with a mix of concern and curiosity . “No? Are you going somewhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… believe that doesn’t concern you right now, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…!” he narrows his eyes, but quickly brushes it off. “Ok. I’m gonna go. I guess I’ll see you… in a while...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok... See ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes the door behind him, leaving you in a dismay state. But below that sentiment, a feeling of annoyance slowly creeps over, along with you, repeating his words with incredulity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'll make sure Raf  brings your things... unbelievable...”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Denial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After Carl asked for a break in your relationship, and left your apartment, it's been a rough couple of days.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You graze a finger on his bare chest, licking his bottom lip. Carl takes your tongue with his, his lips involving yours. A passionate, languid kiss, slowly building the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His warm, citric breath feathers your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You moan softly as he repeats his words, hissing with the anticipation of having you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you… so much…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs his fingers on the roots of your hair, on the back of your neck, pulling them so his lips touch your collarbone, nipping near your throat, a hearty laughter as you moan again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands hike on his chest, pushing him on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Candlelight illuminates his features as he lies down. His hands slide on your back as you sink onto him, feeling your skin, tightly, wrapped around his. Your hips gyrate slowly, listening to Carl’s voice tell you how much he missed you. The sweetness of his words luring a large smile as you keep eye contact, a tender exchange of gaze as you pick up tempo. He grits his teeth, not able to fight a grin as he watches you grind on his lap, every muscle in your body shudder with the pace of how you move. The heat from the room mixes itself with Carl’s grunts as he slides you towards his head, bringing you closer, framing his own face with your thighs. His eyes sparkle as you moan, his tongue swiping on your drenched spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You toss your head back, your hair cascading on your shoulders, glued to your neck, due to the beads of sweat breaking on your skin. His lips, soft against you, kiss your thighs and layers in turns, luring a rhythmic wave from your hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grind…” he says, holding the side of your legs, pushing you against himself, even further, his face completely buried in you. You move, urgently, the texture of his tongue in rough and ruthless motions, teasing a chain of grunts spilling from your lips. As your heart beats faster, electrical sparks explode below your waistline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soreness turns into a delicious spiral of ecstasy. You graze your thumb on his forehead, his gaze on you, admiring your stance as you move in sync with his mouth, moaning his name, over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moonlight beams in, through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, the light tone of cream lighting up the silhouette of your bodies on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand finds him, above his thighs, wrapping your fingers on his length, caressing him slowly. His grunts get lost in yours as he thrusts in your hand, chest and stomach muscles tightening with pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More…” he begs, your name under his breath as he continues to please you, fiercely licking your skin, his groans vibrating on you. His hand hikes the side of your body, pulling your torso down so he can whisper. “Please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab the headboard, letting him finish his work on you, shivers of ecstasy slowly flowing from your legs to your scalp. Crying out his name, your voice goes weak, the butterflies in your stomach flying away as you catch his eyes, vivid, looking at you with adoration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shudder as you melt in his mouth, raking your fingernails on the wall, your hips trembling on his head, thighs capturing his cheeks. His smile reaches his eyes as you move to take him in with your lips, now turning your back at him, shifting your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pleads, again, and again, for you to stop, to let him have you once more. He can’t help it, rolling his hips in your mouth, slowly twitching in your cheek as he grips the bedsheets, watching you contort your back muscles as you swallow him whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl hoists himself up, cupping your breasts, pulling you to lean your back against his chest, whispering in your ear as you let your hips meet his, halfway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a rapid motion, you look at your surroundings breathless, the sun rising on your window, your alarm clock resonating in your empty bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, you wake up with a start. “For fuck’s sake!” you rub your eyes, straightening your back, feeling your forehead and neck drenched with sweat from another vivid dream. Bending your knees up and burying your face between them, you feel your heartbeats slowing down as you sigh, reality building itself around you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a long, deep and frustrated breath, you move to the bathroom, to have your morning routine, once again, alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you brush your teeth, and get ready to leave, you hear the intercom ringing, a ray of hope growing inside of you as you rush to pick it up. “Yes?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. It’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart thumps. The hesitation of the voice brings hope, luring a timid smile from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… Raf. I brought your… your things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” deflated, you pick up your tone, firming it as you respond. “Hi, Raf. Come on up.” Before you buzz him in, he cuts you short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… if you don’t mind… it’s better if you get down. I’m not comfortable with coming up to your apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… sure. Ok… I’ll… be right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without changing, you catch the elevator in your pajamas and robe, and as the doors slide with a ding, you see the back of his head, in your lobby. His dreadlocks in a different color this time, now a dark blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi!” he perks up, eyes roaming on your freshly washed face. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… good. Yeah.” You feel unsure of how to greet him, thinking to yourself. “A handshake? A hug? Just nothing?” brushing it off, watching as he piles the boxes on top of each other, you shrug. “Erm… I just woke up, so don’t mind the pajamas.” You chuckle, embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s ok! Here…” a pile of three cubic boxes brings a gloominess to your eyes. Raf notices it, immediately placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hold back a couple of tears. “Yeah! I’m… fine…” your sad chuckle doesn’t help your case. “It’s a good thing you came early. You almost didn’t catch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head tips to the side, a curious look on his eyes. “Really? Are you going somewhere?” he notices your slightly wide eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” you throw a dismissive hand, trying your best to keep your voice casual. “I’m heading to Cornwall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cornwall, really? Must be gorgeous this time of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… yeah…?” you put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I planned this trip with him… you know… but since things got… complicated, I guess I’m going alone...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raf’s eyes roam on your face. As young as he is, not only he’s intelligent, but also very perceptive. It was clear he was dropping hints to Carl of what, and what not to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this isn’t ideal, and it’s definitely not my place, but…” he hesitates for a moment, glancing at the company car outside, then turning his focus on you. “Can I give you a hug?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cradle your face in your hands, but nods through the motion. His scrawny arms embrace you with hesitation, but you feel a warmth coming from his gesture. You feel solidary pats on your back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about this.” He pulls away with a smile, but still, just as a pained expression as yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok, Raf. Thanks for being so… kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the least I can do! We all miss you back there, you know…” he shoots you a knowing look, smirking. “All of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes roam on the boxes, lonely on the giant marble floor of the lobby. “Yeah. Not all of you, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He perches his lips, stopping himself from saying anything, immediately brushing it off. “I erm…” his stutter catches your eye, and he walks backwards, slowly reaching the entrance. “I gotta go…” he waves awkwardly. “But it was good seeing you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… Raf, are you sure you don’t wanna come upstairs? I’m about to make coffee!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I would love to, but I have to go…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you can say anything, he’s already stepping outside, out of earshot. You mumble, confused. “Ok… bye…” Raf hops in the car parked in front of the building and for some reason, the car stays motionless a little too long, so you decide to get moving. “That was… sudden.” You sniff, dragging the boxes across the floor, using your dorsum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the elevator rides back to your floor, you carry them to your place, on a pile over your chest, clumsily stepping in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boxes seem to start a staring contest with you, clearly winning. “I’m not in the mood for you!” You kick one of them, it slides below your console table, staying in place, just as mocking as it was before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupid…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last words from Carl, before leaving your apartment, bring a deep and irritating crimson tone to your cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raf will bring your things… as if I wanted them back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, visibly bothered, hands on your hips, still losing the staring contest. With a sigh, you take a seat on your fluffy rug, its fibers being crushed by the weight of the boxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Defeated, you open one by one, tossing the content on the floor, scattering the items as you analyze them, one by one. “Fine… it’s not like they’ll go away…! Shampoo… face cream… notebooks…” object after object, that you didn’t even remember to be in his place, is tossed on the sofa, in different piles. Your annoyance slowly fading to a neutral attitude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bedroom… bathroom… kitchen…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of dresses, one that you wore at the Holiday party in his office, for less than an hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kitchen… dining room…” several baking and cooking items you brought to his place when you taught him a couple of recipes. Slowly, as you sort the items to organize them later, memories start flooding your mind as you pick them up, one by one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pizza cutter, the shaker for the cocktails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My… favorite swimsuit.” You hold it up, the color as radiant as it was back then, when he gave it to you, right before planning a trip. The image of him, carping his way out of the pool, ribs purpling as you laugh together, brings an unexpected smile to your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Books… pens… even pens! Come on…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In disbelief, you chug them on the other side of the apartment, violently. They hit the wall, at least two breaking in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Diffuser… massage oil…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you rummage through the content, classifying the items, you reach the last box, the lightest of them all, also the smallest. A couple of body wash bottles and tampons on the top. “Bathroom… and bathroom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Below the toiletries, a dark grey cloth catches your attention. Pulling it out, the fabric of the sweatshirt is still as soft as it was on the day you stole it from him. He frowned and complained, but deep down, he liked the idea of his girlfriend stealing a piece of clothing that belongs to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh, remembering the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kinda sad that I wasn’t on that cake challenge with you…” he said, folding his shirts after you did laundry, during quarantine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” you laughed, placing a neat pile of shorts on the bed. “I can eat a whole cake right now if you want me to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… not that part. Not quite that part...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is? Do you wanna decorate some baked goods?” your smirk lures one from him as he turns to you, folding one of his favorite pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… it’s just… there was this bet and… I don’t know. I never had any of my partners taking possession of my clothes before. It seems to be a very common costume among modern relationships.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” you narrow your eyes, they immediately fall on a dark grey sweatshirt in his hands, one you’ve seen him wear only at home, on Saturday nights. “How about… instead of a simple cake bet, I just…” you rip it from his grip, your smirk growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!!” he gestures to the piece in your hands. “That’s… mine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now it’s mine. Problem solved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… it’s still mine…” he takes a couple of steps towards you with a nod, a grin on the corner of his lips. “Give it back…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning over, you bite your lip with a smug expression. “Make me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, eyes narrowed, still grinning. “If you steal my sweatshirt, I’ll have to grab your skirt, because I’ll be hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at him, stifling a laugh. “And I won’t get dessert…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you can finish your sentence, Carl tackled you on the bed, tickling your sides, your laughter filling the room. “I told you I was gonna defend the honor of my family!” his fingers dug your sensitive spots, pinching your sides as he chuckled along with you. “Give it back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give it back!!” his motions became ruthless, pinning your hands on the mattress, the task of folding clothes completely forgotten. He leaned over, lips brushing on yours, a smile growing through the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you reminisce, sitting on your rug, holding the sweatshirt in your hands, reality rushes in. The scent of orange and clove emanates from the fabric, too sweet and deep to not let tears roll on your cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wipe the stubborn tears with your fingers, walking towards your bedroom, lying down, the sweatshirt in your grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With your bags in the trunk, and a mild determination that seems to fade every five minutes, you hop in your car, to drive to Cornwall, your brain wrecking between stress and frustration. Not only your work is taking everything from you, but the unexpected break with Carl also has taken a lot of your energy, more than it did on the first few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire time you spend in your car is a battle between your heart and your brain. Whether you should escape to a different place, or simply stay put and try to enjoy yourself at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that you can see yourself actually having fun. But it’s a hope that lies in your heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucky for you, Chelsea is the best mate anyone could have, and despite her free way of being, she always has good advice to give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!! Don’t even need to think about it. The answer is yes. You should go and spend some time away, alone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the mileage pointer goes up, you doubt more and more that this is the right move. You have to remind yourself of her kind words and push through your impulse of just driving back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The radio doesn’t help either, and every song seems to be especially arranged by some sort of torturer DJ in every radio station you tune in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… “Gone”?! Come on radio, work with me!” the nob turns to catch the middle of another song. “Ok… this is…” a light melody of a guitar picks up tempo along with the tuneful piano in the background. You try to bob your head to it, but as soon as the velvety voice sings the lyrics, you growl in frustration, repeating them to yourself as you change the station. “I’m imagining the words you said when I last saw your mouth?! Fuck off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a violent slap, you turn off the radio, parking the car on the rail side of the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?!” your hands gesture widely to the device, as if it could respond to you, verbally, the reason for its torturing ways. “Why?! Tell me, you piece of shit! Why?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With unmeasured force, you slap the panel of your car, the radio popping from the frame. “Shut up!” the heels of your palms hit the sides of the steering wheel, over and over, your heart swelling with despair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been over a week since you let yourself feel the bitter sensation of your frustrations. It seemed you managed to control yourself from falling apart, however, your mind doesn’t agree with your heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angry tears well up from your eyes as you grit your teeth, trying the best you can to avoid them. “Stop! Not again!!” you wrap the wheel with your hands, your fingertips white with the strength you hold on to it, burying your face in your forearms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not again… please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a deep breath, the citric scent of his cologne emanating from your car. His presence is still strong on the passenger’s seat. Suddenly, your mind wrestles with itself, as if part of your brain wanted to display every single occasion he was sat next to you, whether you were taking him to work, or picking him up, to go home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting next to you, his elbow propped on the window edge as he nips lightly on his index finger, smiling as he blushes over something outrageous you just said. He shakes his head, laughing heartily as you continue to spill dirty words, biting your bottom lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my days… babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like that, don’t lie to yourself…” you leaned over to reach his cheek, feathering his ear with your breath. “Spock…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised a finger, trying to contain an embarrassed laugh. “In my defense, you were the one who asked me to keep the ears…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you obeyed! Tell me that’s not what you wanted…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cut him short, grabbing his thigh with a squeeze. “Exactly. You’re as dirty as I am. The sooner you admit, the better…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl looked pointedly at you, squinting as he adjusted himself on his seat, but still with a kind expression. “I don’t deserve you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re as bad as me, I’m your punishment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha… no…” his eyes roamed from your hands to your eyes. “I wish my punishments in school looked like you. I reckon it would’ve been fun…” he cut himself short, covering his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-ha! See! You’re as bad as I am!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words from the memory fade quickly, but the image of a laid back Carl, rolling his eyes with a bashful smile, lingers a little longer, luring a sob from you as you shut your eyes, rubbing your forehead with exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute to breath is more than what you need. It takes you several moments to pick up the last strand of determination and turn that key, not going back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The radio, still off frame, stares at you, stirring thoughts that shouldn’t be present in this moment. but the more you push them away, the more they resist, forcing their way into your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab your temples, letting the tears freely roll to your chin, sobbing again, repeating to yourself this is what you need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who knows? Maybe it will sink in, eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the worst road trip, you’ve ever had, you reach the room, after the check-in, and it already brings your mood down. You forgot to request a bedroom for only one person, and as soon as you step in, you see the arrangements made for a couple</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Petals are scattered on the cream-colored duvet, the complimentary basket of treats, including wine and chocolates, is settled neatly on the table by the window, along with a vase of fresh flowers, your favorite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually it would be the sort of thing to bring a smile to your lips, but as your eyes roam on the room, a burning feeling starts ramping its way from your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even noticing, your hands are already swiping the covers, holding a trash can, to deposit every one of the petals, and the candles posed on the nightstands, in the garbage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely fuck this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You requested specific scents to the candles, of course, including orange and clove. “Fuck – this!” you yell, shutting your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deep breath, you plop on the bed, now cleared from any romantic props, slowly lacing your fingers and placing your hands on your stomach. Your head is spinning, even though it’s been a week since the last time you saw him. The sun beams outside, a small opening on the curtains allow a few rays to dance on the light carpet, the prism of colors forming a rainbow through the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes seem to play his words before leaving your apartment, over and over, bringing even more frustration to your heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… love you too. And you have… no idea…how much I already miss you. And if it was a different time, maybe we would just brush it off, and stay the way we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had tears in his eyes, same as you, and for a person like Carl, always logical and practical, it seemed to be even more hurtful than it looked. But you’re also always annoyed by his next sentence, and it’s easier to be angrier than sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure Raf brings your things from my house. I know there’s a lot of stuff there that you like… and well… I would like you to have them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyed, you huff, heavily. “Not even him… he wouldn’t bring my shit from his place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your phone chimes from your purse, startling you with its volume. A sigh of relief escapes you as you see the number on your screen. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, babes!” a perky Chelsea on the other side of the line talks back, a lot of noise on the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa! That’s what I call gloomy. Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh. “Yeah… I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That really doesn’t sound reassuring at all. Wanna talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels…. I’m not in the mood.” You rub your forehead with the heel of your palm, moving to open the window, so the afternoon sun can bathe the room. “I really am not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… just…” she takes a deep breath, the noisy background going quieter, gradually. “You know I’m gonna be here whenever you need me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then…” she hesitates. “If you’re not in the mood of talking, right now, may I suggest you something that might light up your head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels… if you light up my head, it’ll catch on fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause, followed by a snort and her hearty laugh. “Babes! You know what I mean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weak, sad smile grows on your lips as you step outside, grazing your hand on the wall from the porch, feeling the texture. “Yeah, yeah… what’s your suggestion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… I saw this thing on a tv show, where a friend told a friend to talk to the camera, when she was feeling down. I’ve tried it before, and it totally works!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Like a journal…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels… you’re my favorite person in the whole world, what makes you think I would like to talk to myself when I don’t wanna talk to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw… that’s so sweet!” she pauses, sniffing. “Look… sometimes, we get lost in our thoughts, and can’t seem to find the solution to stuff. I go through it, you go through it, we all have those moments where… I don’t know… we just don’t understand what’s going on with ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And like…” she sighs. “I don’t think you would be the type to write things down. I mean, if that’s you, then you do you, but I suggest you talk to yourself. It can bring some benefits, for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shield your eyes from the glistening sun. “So, you’re saying “prop my phone somewhere, turn the camera on, and talk to myself?”, is that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to turn the camera on… just… I don’t know. It’s kind of like a vlog, but one that no one will ever see it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft chuckle escapes you. “Does it really work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hun, you have no idea!! I do it all the time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” You sit on one of the wicker chairs, on the front porch, observing the horizon, noticing a few people on the beach, downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you! Whenever I can’t decide on a piece of furniture for a client, or if I wanna make my hair lighter, or if I wanna cut bangs, I question myself before! I do this sort of thing, and it enlightens me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, just so you know, if you had bangs, you would look hella cute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babes, don’t I know it?!” she laughs with relief. “But then I remind myself of the maintenance, and the whole “roots” thing, and then I give up, because it’s so much more work than I wanna have with my hair!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True… that’s very true...” you fiddle with your fingers, slowly slumping your shoulder. “There’s always the awkward first week, then, it looks good for about two, maybe three weeks tops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! See! That’s just one of those moments, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean… a moment of realization?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice perks up even more, almost squealy. “Exactly! When you understand something and it’s like… totally overdue! It takes us this long to understand it, and now it’s like it all made sense since forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Like an epiphany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” you hear her fingers snapping. “That’s the word I was looking for! And maybe you’ll understand why you were feeling so close to Noah, or why you went to his house after your fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels… I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl, I’m just saying. This whole trip was supposed to be you and him, having fun. You could’ve just requested your money back and not go, at all…” Chelsea’s voice gains a knowing firmness. “But you decided to go on your own, and that’s just something you can do there… you can think, try to understand your own heart, you know? You might uncover a lot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, you respond, folding your legs under your hips. “Why are you always right? Fine! I’ll try. And that’s all I can promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s already enough for me, given I’m not there with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… understand, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea giggles. “I would be the worst bra in the world if I didn’t. You need this. And it has to be done on your own… so…” her tone is gentle enough that you can picture her smile. “I’ll leave you to it. and you know you can call me if you need anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Chels…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your smile grows a little larger. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what sisters are for, besides landing you a dress and doing your makeup on a night out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And of course, giving love advice to my boyfriend…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I am friends with both of you, aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head tips back, the sun peaking in the sky, making you squint as you look up. You wonder if you should ask her the inevitable question: it's been hammering your head for days. But before you can ponder for longer, your mouth speaks without your consent. “So… how is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof… ok.” She snaps her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “I haven’t talked to him. At all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… it’s not that I’m choosing sides here, let’s make that very clear. But I can’t know how he’s doing and not telling you, or knowing how you’re doing, and not telling him…” she pauses. “In a moment like this, the friends should keep it to themselves. I don’t think it’s a good idea if you and Carl know how the other is doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I agree with you there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sent him a message.” Chelsea hesitates. “I told him it was best if the boys and I just divided the tasks, you know? I’ll be in charge of you, and they’ll be in charge of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grunt. “This is all so messy! You’re close friends with Carl and I’m close to the boys!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know… but they were so worried about Carl, that Bobby called him, and it was all a mess… we decided to keep each other informed on basic terms. “healthy”, “eating well”, “exercising”, and so it goes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s…” you scratch your head. “… actually clever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! So even if I know that Carl is ok, it’s still not enough to make you panic or get anxious. Besides, because you’re not a monster, you wanna be sure he’s ok, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m… I don’t think I need to worry about him as much as I did once, but it’s nice knowing he’s doing ok, given the circumstances. He is ok, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggles again, relaxed. “Yes… he’s ok. I would’ve told you if it wasn’t the case. Anyhow… now it’s your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My turn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on… your sleeping problem. You didn’t tell me much about it, and I reckon you might still have those issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deep breath, you shut your eyes, massaging your temple. “It’s… not great…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you tried something like meditation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve tried everything, Chels… meditating, yoga, whale calling…” She cuts you short with a laugh. “I wish I was joking, girl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… but hey, maybe if you do that thing I told you about, it will… help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess. Can’t hurt. At least, I don’t think so.” You chuckle, sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll leave you to it. You have a lot of stuff to do. And you should stay away from trouble. And your phone, so you can relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok... I’ll do my best. We’ll… talk soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, gorgeous! Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chug the phone on your bed, stopping yourself from looking at any notifications or social media, already wondering how his feed has been looking for the past few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as you’ve succeeded on not peeking, it’s always tempting to check, even if it’s just one picture. As you watch your phone, lying on your bed, you squint. “Actually…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a whim, you grab it, scrolling your apps, deleting all of them at once. And even though you changed your wallpaper days ago, somehow, you can still picture the image of you and him, wearing rose colored glasses, back in quarantine. Your eyes deceive you every time you unlock your phone. A shake of head it’s always necessary when you unlock it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After deleting the last of them, you take a deep breath, as usual, trying to convince yourself this is the smartest move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s for the best.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Anger and Bargaining</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alone, in Cornwall, you have the help of a few friends. Well, one stranger and two new companions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You wake up startled by a couple of birds landing on your lap, the Saturday afternoon lights beaming in your room. Your eyes narrow as you peep outside, the cerulean shades mix themselves with the chalky clouds, as the sun slowly sets on the horizon. The time on your watch marks 5:53 pm, and your eyes go wide as you calculate how many hours you were able to sleep. “Not bad… three…” you say, in mid yawn. “Better than lately, for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The birds’ claws scratch your skin, lightly, provoking a tickle as you move to get up. “Sorry, little guys.” The thin blanket falls on the ground as you head to the bathroom, stretching your spine, yawning with low energy. “Good evening… birds…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fly to perch on the rail of your balcony, and as you brush your teeth, you can see their heads tipping side to side, smiling to yourself. “So cute…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chime comes from your phone, alerting you from your usual 6 o’clock alarm. You pick it up with a mild annoyance. “I know, I know… dinner time…” you then read the name of the alarm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time for me to burn something \\-//”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It teases a smile from you every time it goes off, so there’s always a chuckle that follows when you just tap your screen, carelessly, moving to the kitchen where Carl is probably about to burn, or already burned something. Usually his weak voice is what makes you laugh, along with his sad face, holding a pan, its bottom, completely turned into charcoal, and the smell of smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, you drop your phone on the bed, moving to change your clothes, putting on something practical, but still good to take a walk on the beach. “I refuse to stay inside today. I just refuse!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like the birds, outside, understand, even though they don’t move. “I know you guys got that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sharp resolve to your attitude, you put on flip flops, to go downstairs. Besides driving to Cornwall, this is the first time you’re gonna leave a room, since that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you mumble to yourself, head buzzing, the receptionist almost stays hanging as she waves with a kind smile. “Good evening, ma’am…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good evening.” You casually slip outside, slowly breathing in the saline air. The beach is not far from the hotel, staying only a few feet from the entrance. From where you stand, there’s a smoke cloud coming from a certain spot, followed by laughter, music, and the unmistakable smell of sea food and cocktails. The sweet scent of grapes, wine and strawberries becomes stronger as you approach the border that divides the beach and the road. Your feet sink in the soft sand, still warm, the sun completely gone now, but the lights from the kiosks, a couple open, hosting the party going down on the shore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waves crash, and as you take step by step, you can feel your heart a little lighter. At times, the people around, enjoying the celebration, smiling at each other as one man plays a guitar, and a second one plays a small drum, goofing around with old classics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! You can do better than that!” a tall, built woman gets up, dancing to the rhythm of the song, slowly pulling another person to dance along, their curls fluttering as they shimmy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, with a smile, and decide to keep on walking. The shore is calmer than yesterday, when you arrived. The waves don’t crash as violently as they did, and the sea air is much softer as you walk towards one of the kiosks, taking a seat on one of the stools.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, good evening!” a perky servant greets you with a large smile, running his hand on his dark brown hair, eyes sparkling as he waits for your order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” Your tone of voice is low and unenergetic as you turn your head, seeing the several people dancing around the bonfire. “What’s going there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there was a wedding. The newlyweds are gone for the honeymoon, but the wedding party is having a hell of a good time!” the boy smiles, rinsing a glass. “So, what can I get you, ma’am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, just… scotch and soda, to start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming right up!” he turns his back to prepare your drink, and before you can turn to see the fun happening behind you, a man takes a seat on a couple of stools away, the scent of his cologne citric and delightful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glance at his direction, noticing a large smile on his full lips. The tone of his skin, deep and golden, are illuminated by the flicker of the flames, his toned arms bulge as he grabs his own waist, watching the party. He takes a final sip of his tumbler, slowly sliding it towards the boy behind the counter. “Can I get another one, Eric?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right away!” he perkily picks up the glass, filling it with a mixture as he hands you your order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” You smile politely, sipping on the sharp drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” The voice coming from your side catches your attention with its volume, low and its tone, slightly raspy. “I’m Michael.” The man extends his hand for you to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Michael.” His grip is firm, enough to make you think he probably deals with handshakes a lot. “That’s a good grip…” you say, pulling your hand away, sipping once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t appreciate limb handshakes. They bother me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. Same here.” You turn your torso to look at him, not only glance, and notice his open rose-colored shirt, covered in dark green palm trees, covering his white tank top. You smirk, nodding at his clothes. “Nice shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks.” He adjusts the collar. “I was wondering what people would think of my outfit for the wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re with them?” you nod to the group not too far from your seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah! I was the best man. My brother got married today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awesome! Congratulations to him, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh…” his frown is immediately followed by a light chuckle. “That… didn’t seem genuine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t say it was. I don’t know him, do I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold-blooded!” he takes a small sip of his whiskey, immediately grinning. “I love it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you did… bloke that I’ve never seen before in my entire life. Would you like a knock-knock joke next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, tipping his head back, still staying in place, visibly relaxed. “I would like to buy you a drink, if you’re interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Even after that?” you gesture to yourself, sarcasm pouring out of your words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It seems like you have a lot in your mind, and a drink might help.” He shrugs, turning his body to face you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That transparent, huh?” you bite your inner lip with a slight annoyance, swirling the content in your glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I can go back if I’m bothering you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…!” you raise a hand. “It’s not you… it’s just…” for the first time, you notice his eyes, lighting up with the warm colors from the fire, its amber color intense, almost reaching a cognac tone. “I’m just not in a good place, and I don’t think I’ll be much of a good company, tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm…” a crease forms between his thick, dark brows as he gestures to the stool next to you, as if asking for permission to sit closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to sit by your side, shoulder to shoulder as you both enjoy your drinks. “So… wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah… go enjoy your night. It seems it’s ramping up pretty quickly.” You smile as you see the reflection of the dance moves happening directly behind you, on the soda fridge behind the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True! However, I’m not drunk enough to pull that off… not really!” he smiles kindly. “If you wanna vent, just know I won’t charge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes fall on his lips as he finishes talking. “Why, are you a therapist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He perches his lips, shrugging. “Not exactly, but that doesn’t stop people from telling their whole life story to me, on the most unsuitable moments. I reckon that might be a problem for most people, but at this point, I’m used to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh. “See… you say that, but in your eyes, I can see you’re just as bothered as me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm…” he shoots you a mischievous look. “How about this? You tell me a story with a horrible ending…” he leans over a bit. “Like the one you’re probably living right now… and I’ll tell you the time I woke up next to an otter, on a fishing boat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You choke on your drink, spluttering a few droplets on your chin. “Come on!” he offers you a couple of napkins, smiling widely. “You’re lying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope! But I’ll only tell you if you tell yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… you see… I’m not that interested in your tale, so I guess the offer must be raised.” You raise your brows, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes. “I’ll offer you the otter story and raise you a “sequin dress in college due to a bet” story, followed by “I was caught in the principal’s office dressed like that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! That can’t be real!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you. I have pictures to prove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your shoulders heave with your laughter as you face him, covering your eyes. “I’m gonna go on a limb and say you were drunk…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… only in one of those times. But still… you tell yours and I’ll tell you mine.” He winks, finishing his drink, sliding the glass for the boy to fill it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright…but given your intentions here, this is probably going to cause you to hiss with disappointment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… amuse me.” Michael shrugs with confidence, a killer smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It involves me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his voice with a charming grin. “So far, so good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes. “Aham… and a guy.” you watch as he hisses immediately. “See?! I told you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… can’t blame him. If you don’t mind me making a comment, you do seem like a lovely girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, thank you. I’m not, but I appreciate the comment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, rubbing his eyes. “So… what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to be bored with the details of my romantic fall out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… if the story is good, it’s not like I’m gonna be bored, is it?” he raises his drink, looking at you expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… you do have a point.” You clink his glass with yours. “Ok, Michael…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, I don’t know your name yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… you don’t have to know my name to hear a story, now, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoots you an impressed look, turning to stay face to face. “Clever… alright. fair enough. Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You begin your story from the moment you met in the show, emphasizing when you and Carl met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael slaps the counter with a large grin, nodding. “Wait! That’s where I know you from! You’re the winner, right?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Yes, I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there goes your plan of me not knowing your name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile coyly, taking sips. “I guess I miscalculated this part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you pick up the story from where you left, you advance to the day Carl drove to Romford, talking about the situation with Noah. “To be fair, I didn’t think he was right about the bloke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… that librarian was always with his eye on you. It was clear!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… but I didn’t know! And it’s not like he made a pass on me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael adjusts himself on his seat, grabbing his own waist. “Until that day, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… until that day, he always kept his distance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm... I find it hard to believe someone would take this long to make a move, but then again, you were in a serious relationship with another lad…” he sighs. “But what do I know? Anyway… what happened next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You proceed to tell the stranger how Carl approached Noah’s house, punched him, breaking the librarian’s nose, and leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! That guy? The same guy that would start shaking by just talking to you? That same bloke?!” he purses his lips, impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you! I was as baffled as you are, right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… you two do seem to keep it to yourselves, so I guess I’m surprised. We never saw anything from you on social media, except a few posts. And he doesn’t look like the kind of lad that would punch someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He isn’t! That’s why he wanted to take a break. To figure why he did what he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael tips his head, rapidly, from side to side, as if he was measuring the outcomes of your story. “I can’t say I blame him, but I wouldn’t do the same. I don’t think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he would do it, either. To be honest, if it was another time, Carl would probably just bottle it up, and move on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like this didn’t happen out of the blue, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You ponder on the man’s words, your eyes roaming from the counter to your tumbler, your voice slightly lower. “I guess not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I’m saying is… this boyfriend of yours seems to be having a hard time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but I can’t say I’m pitying him all that! He did make a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you joking?” he turns his face to you with a smug smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He accused me! Why would I be joking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” he licks his lips, snapping his tongue on the roof of this mouth. “Look… I know you two went through some stuff… but can I just say something? As a viewer from the outside, that has nothing to do with any of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna hold back if I say “no”, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shrugs again, more deeply. “Very true!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, go ahead. Tell me what you’re thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This…” he exhales sharply from his mouth, biting his lip. “… is gonna ruin every chance I could possibly have with you saying “yes” to another drink…” you open your mouth to speak, but he shakes his head. “But I think you… fucked up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” your voice bolts from your chest. “Excuse me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look!” he raises his hands, the bracelet of his watch reflecting the flames of the bonfire. “I’m just saying… the guy was insecure, and you did exactly what he was afraid of…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I had my reasons!” you point to your own chest. “He accused me! Of cheating! The day we were gonna move in together!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet…” he takes a light sip of his whiskey. “You went ahead and went to the librarian’s house… I mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Michael, not you too!” you throw a hand, defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say? You really did! And hey…” he clears his throat. “I’m not saying he didn’t… I’m not saying Carl is innocent here, but what I mean is that you hurt him on purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, did he!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger sighs, placing his glass on a coaster, turning to look at you, earnestly. “Ok. He did hurt you, by accusing you. But did you ever think that might have nothing to do with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your mouth, and close it, again, this time, taken aback. “W-wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just a bloke you met at the beach, having a drink, and a fun time with my friends, but… you told me he, once, said he had commitment issues, right? He would stick around for two, maybe three months, and that was it… wasn’t that what he said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” you squint, following his line of thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps… the fact that he accused you, at all, has something to do with a past relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… he told me about them. Nothing really special. Not according to him, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… and how did they end?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You reminisce on Carl’s words, every time he told you about an ex, or a short term relationship. “He was the one to end it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you told me, vaguely, that you two had a one-year anniversary, right?” he raises his brows, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I guarantee. There’s something he’s not telling you. This whole fight about the librarian might’ve been because he was scared… but… did he ever tell you about any cheating on his past?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, never. Usually he just gets out of it, on the three-month mark. According to him, it never lasted this long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And do you think it’s due to luck? That you stuck this far together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tilt your head to the side, observing Michael’s expression turn into a smug look. “I don’t think so. We’ve been through a lot, especially at first. And it’s not like we didn’t work on our problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, locking his lips for a moment, chuckling before speaking again. “Sounds like he loves you, a lot. But… it’s not like the lad doesn’t have issues. We all do. We all have a chip on our shoulder, or a reason to look back at our past, and just… take that problem with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scowl, still feeling the pain from that day, Carl’s betrayed expression when he accused you. “Sounds like he needs some therapy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you have some thinking to do, as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” you eye him, involuntarily, up and down, luring a hearty laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you had your reasons to go after the other lad. And even though you knew it was gonna hurt him, you did it anyway. Isn’t that reason enough to think about your choices?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I know why I did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shoots you a defiant look, finishing his drink in a gulp. “Why? Why did you go there every time your boy was working? Why did you feel the need to hurt him that day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well…” you search for words, that you could’ve sworn were ready-to-go in your throat, ready to give this stranger a lesson about how much you know yourself, but it backfires. You stammer, over and over, furrowing your brows, staring at your lap, as if the answer was lying in one of the layers of your outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly eyes your face, as you struggle to form a sentence. “Yeah… that’s what I thought…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, whatever… know-it-all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hurt…” he smiles, smugly. “Look… I know relationships can be very complicated, but, sometimes, it’s not complicated at all. It just lacks a conversation or two. It seems like your boy is hiding more than just short-term relationships.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would know that, huh?” you rest a fist under your chin, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Changing the focus of our conversation only tells me I hit the spot, ma’am. If anything, I’m proud of myself.” He gets up from his stool, nodding at the servant by the reflective fridge. “Bring out a bottle, will you, mate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” you stare at him as he grabs the scotch, his voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could say “taking you back there, to dance”, but it seems you have a lot to think about.” He leans over closer. “And I’m not about to deprive you from that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” your head hangs low as you graze a fingertip on the rim of your glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem like a good person who just made a mistake and needs to do some thinking. And god…” he exhales sharply from his mouth “… god knows how much I wanted you to be single…” he watches you, shaking your head, grinning as he continues. “But you’re completely and utterly in love with this lucky bastard. So, all I can say is… “you can come to the bonfire with me, have a dance or two, but eventually, you’ll have to go back to your room, to reflect on some things” and even though that’s not what I thought I would be saying to you when I sat down, it’s what you need to hear. Am I right?” he smiles kindly, raising his hand, looking for permission to touch your shoulder. Once you nod, he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “If you have a realization, and decide on what to do, I’m sure our conversation would have not been in vain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You touch the back of his hand with a weak smile. “I hate to say this… but you’re right.” His lips curl into a proud pout. “Thank you, Michael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome. And in the slight chance you and this bloke don’t work out, I’m really tempted to give you my business card.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whips a card from the pocket of his beige pants, winking as he slides it on the counter. “Like I said, in the slight chance you and this lad don’t work it out…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael, get out of here!” you laugh, also getting up from your seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, ok. I’m going.” He winks, holding the bottle by its neck. “Can I offer you a hug, at least?” You nod with a lighter smile on your lips. He opens his arms, patting your back. “It’s gonna be fine, girl. And if it doesn’t…” he pulls away, holding your elbows with a light touch. “… you have my number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slap his arm, playfully, before rolling your eyes, grabbing the card. “I’ll tell you this.” He turns his focus on you with a kind gaze. “If it doesn’t work between Carl and me, you’ll be in trouble if I call you.” You place the card inside of your top, shooting him a cheeky wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof… you do look like my kind of trouble, though… now, get out of here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn on your heels, holding your sandals as you follow the path to the hotel, checking your watch, glancing back at the kind stranger. He shoots you a nod, turning to go back with his friends, the flickering of the flames growing with the wind from the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon is full and bright in the sky when you climb out of the shower, hair wrapped in a towel. Two in the morning rolls in, and you still have difficulty falling asleep, after coming back from the beach. Your first instinct is to check your phone. “Nope…” you perch your lips with the realization you deleted everything remotely social, now pacing the room, to decide what to do next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deflated, you sit on the bed, grabbing the remote to watch TV, again. Several streaming services available make your decision even harder. Flipping catalogue after catalogue, cover after cover, and app after app, it’s hard not to feel bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel the urge to dial the reception number, to check if the kitchen is still open. “Hi… I have an order placed for dinner, but I couldn’t get it before. Is it possible to get it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No hopes whatsoever, you’re shocked that the receptionist calls out to one of the servers, to bring the food to your room. The efficiency in the hotel is unmatched. Nothing like the one you stayed in, after Quarantine, with Carl. Something about the way the employees took too long to bring the food, or a simple item, like towels or soap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It drives me insane!” Carl was leaning over the rails on the balcony, holding his phone. “Seriously. Thirty minutes for a towel…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed, flipping the channels of the TV. “Maybe they got lost in the way. It’s a big hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unheard of, to need GPS to walk in a hotel, I’ll tell you that much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow! Babe! Did you just make a joke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” he squinted at you, waving his phone with a grin. “I can be funny. I just… choose not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Riiiiight… you’re just always calculating when not to be funny…” you smirked, shooting him a look, luring him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes at you, but stepped in, leaning on the frame of the sliding door. “You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think. I know I am. Besides, the whole service is very slow, in general. Except for the alcohol.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folded his arms as you, distractedly, continued to select several covers on the TV, trying to make a choice of what to watch. “So… you really liked it, huh?” he nodded at your sweatshirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gigantic, grey, comfortable and it smells like you, what’s not to like…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you, but in clothes form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tipped his head forward, to listen better, a small startle on his eyes. “I’m sorry, what did you say… babe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, you know… it’s warm, and I like having it on me.” You press the cursor on the cover of a movie, turning to see him, smiling, immediately mirroring his motion. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing…” he shook his head, brushing it off. “Nothing at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory brings a sad smile to your face, as you step outside, on the balcony, watching as the small waves ripple from the wind, the sea calm. A light, but cold breeze takes a few strands of your hair from place. Your arms shiver, making you hug yourself, as you stay watching the night, avoiding any contact with your phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as you try to focus on the landscape, the phone seems to be calling out to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No indigo sky, or the very visible stars can distract you enough. It lures you to the bedroom, along with Chelsea’s words. Even though you can’t imagine yourself following her advice, you can’t stop thinking about it either. And it’s not like the conversation with Michael, the kind stranger from the beach, didn’t plant a seed of doubt in your mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s so…” the screen lights up your features as you swipe your finger. “So… weird. Then again…” you hesitate, sitting on the bed, slowly lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not like it’s gonna work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breeze intensifies, causing the curtains to flutter from the sliding door frame, slowly reaching the edge of the bed, tickling your feet.  “I mean… what am I gonna discover? What am I gonna realize? That I was mad at him? That he had no right to accuse me like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huff with exasperation, slowly allowing yourself to feel the same way you did, that day. “That punching the wall like that really hurt, but I didn’t even notice…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beam of the screen slowly fades, but your focus is directed at the ceiling fan, moving at low speed. “Carl was such a dick!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel your face warming up, blinking hard. “Such a dick! I mean, he accused me! He pointed his finger at me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You adjust your hands behind your head, talking to your phone, even though it lies next to you, completely still and blank. “It’s not like I had anything with Noah! That was so stupid! How could he think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noises from the beach, directly below the hotel, starts fading as you continue to debate that afternoon with the silence of the room. “To just open his mouth to make me feel bad! How dare he!? I never felt attracted to Noah! He’s a friend! He’s like a brother!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind howls, in low volume, outside, taking several leaves from the branches, a few falling on the deck of your balcony. “Is it so bad that I was close to him? Is it so wrong that I felt good being in his house, with him… his siblings? It’s not like I have a family to run to when shit gets rough!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, you roll on your side, propping on your elbow. “It’s so unfair… I love him, but he was so unfair! So what?! I was going to the guy’s house! Big deal! We’re friends!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop yourself, licking your lips. “Well, we were friends. Before he…” you trail off. “… but still!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your free arm waves as you gesture to your phone, treating it as if it was a close friend. “He was there for me! He would distract me when I had a fight with Carl, or when he was working late… that’s everything I had. Noah’s place. Like… that’s all it was!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The curtains flicker with more intensity, making you get up to slide the balcony door. “I didn’t wanna stay alone in my place! And I would even bring his favorite snack, come on! So unfair!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, folded arms on your chest. “So unfair…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a chirp coming from outside, a small bird perching on the rail. Its black feathers bounce back the moonlight. “What am I supposed to do? Not be upset…? Not get angry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting on the trunk in front of the bed, you stay watching the little bird’s moves, talking directly to him. “What do you think I should’ve done? It’s not like I had much choice. He chose to hurt me, so I hurt him back!” you throw your arms with anger, but your voice drops in volume. “I really wanted to hurt him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff, your heart beats faster. “I wanted him to… to feel as defeated as I was feeling. To know how it feels to be hurt like that. That wasn’t fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes lightly marinating, you stare at the flapping of wings as the little bird lands on the table, outside. The darkness of his plumes is even more salient. “You look cute under the moonlight…” tilting your head, you squint, to see it better. “You actually remind me of him. Really black, shiny hair… I mean, I know you don’t have hair, but still. You would beak the shit out of him! And I would like to see that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The passerine beaks the wooden rail, welcoming a friend, from the same species. “Oh, great, even you have a pair. Awesome… it’s not like I don’t have a pair. I don’t mind not having one, but I do… but it’s complicated. You see, we had this fight... About jealousy. And he was feeling…” your head tips from side to side as you continue venting, pensively. “I guess he was feeling insecure. I don’t see the reason, though! He’s so cute! And so hot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gesture towards the couple of birds. “He has no idea how hot he is! And I don’t really know what’s going on in his head half of the time, because he doesn’t talk to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your monologue catches the attention of the pair of animals, as they tip their heads side to side, rhythmically, almost mirroring your motions. “I know, right!? It’s crazy! It’s like he doesn’t trust me with that sort of thing. And to think he asked me to move in with him… like…” you shrug. “Why would he do that if he doesn’t trust me? Was he just waiting to fuck everything up? Is that why he mentioned Noah that day? I still… I still don’t know. I never gave Noah any hope…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gloominess invades your eyes. “But I guess that wasn’t about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bury your face in your hands, not even noticing a couple of tears rolling on your cheek. “It’s just… I had to defend myself! Nothing ever happened between the bloke and me! Nothing! I mean, Carl was right about his crush, but he didn’t just accuse the guy! He accused me too! I didn’t give him a reason for that. What did I do? I went to Romford when he was working. It’s super-fast to get there! It’s not like Chelsea was around all the time. I mean, I’m not blaming her, I’m just… not blaming anyone. It’s no one’s fault. I guess…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingertips tap on your shin as you stay in Lotus position, watching the birds flying back and forth. “Noah made me feel at ease, you know? He’s a calm lad. He would make me feel at home when I was there. It kinda felt… nice. It’s not that I didn’t like Carl’s house, but without him, it was just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scratch the back of your shoulder, sighing. “… cold. When he wasn’t there, it sort of felt like… like he chose work over me. Which I don’t mind!” you raise your hands in a surrendering motion. “I don’t… but still… it hurt. Whenever there was a text from him, saying he was staying late, it always felt like he didn’t care enough to stick around. That hurt. I don’t know where his head was because he wouldn’t tell me. We needed to go through all that for him to tell me how he felt. I’ll tell you guys this, communication is not his forte! You wouldn’t believe how many fights we had over his health, his workload. He was working really, and I do like watching him work. He’s always so excited about coding and all that stuff… I just like seeing him all perked up, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little bird stops on its tracks, landing on the floor of the room, slowly skipping in. “Yeah… he’s a cute one when he’s excited. He has this… brightness, you know? This thing in his eyes. It’s so cool how he gets when he’s into something… and now, it’s been over a week, man…” you lick your lips. “I just… I just miss him, bird. I really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Its shiny eyes stare at you, tipping its little head. “Yeah… I know. I miss him so much. The nerd stuff, the geekiness, that’s just a small part of him. He’s really sweet, and he’s a hard-working lad. He’s always trying so hard, and that’s just one of the things I love about him so much. He’s incredible with everything he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You get up from the bed, sitting next to the couple of birds, on the rug of the hotel room, leaning over to talk in a lower voice. “He’s really brave too. He went through a lot, you know. When he was younger, he had a lot on his plate. His parents, his mates in school… and he still grew up to be this sweet guy, that always helps everyone. So smart… so funny!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rest a fist under your chin, deflated. “He’s so amazing. Why can’t he see it? I tell him all the time. All – the - time, bird. He doesn’t seem to understand. He doesn’t really believe me when I say those things… but yeah.” You tilt your head forward. “You would like him. And I bet he would like you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The birds fly back to the rail of the balcony, still keeping their distance to the minimum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it makes sense that he was jealous… but still… he could’ve talked to me. That’s the sort of thing we should be talking about, too. It’s not all “Star Trek” and chess. He doesn’t open himself as much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn your head to see the bed, your eyes roaming on the walls, the art pieces hanging all around you. A specific painting catches your eyes, somehow taking you back to a moment in quarantine, when you played chess for the first time. “He would like this place. It’s really calm. He would probably think it’s perfect to work, but he would still like it. He would probably fall into the pool and get hurt, as well. Or get hurt climbing out of it.” You let out a weak laugh. “He would find a way of getting hurt, that’s what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of the furniture seems inviting enough to lie down on, somehow, the light-colored wicker keeps repelling you to the one piece of furniture next to the window. “I’m not saying he was right in accusing me, because that was…” you trail off, fiddling with your nails. “But I guess I get it? Sort of? I don’t understand why not talking about it before. Am I scaring him away from having a discussion? Am I that closed off to things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, you sit on the stretcher on the corner, shaking your leg nervously. “I know he doesn’t wanna see me now… he’s probably even mad at me. I’m not denying I wanted to hurt him… but I never thought he would punch the guy! I didn’t think it through… and it’s not like I feel great about that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head feels heavy as you lean it on the wall, next to your chair, reminiscing on Carl’s words that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I crossed a line, that day. I know I did. However… I don’t regret asking you about him or where you were standing with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? I never gave you a reason… never gave him any hopes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I didn’t know that. And when I asked you, you mocked me. You made fun of what I was asking you, instead of taking it seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I take it seriously?” you speak to yourself, shaking your leg with even more energy. “It’s ridiculous! And I didn’t mock him! Not really! I just…” you sigh, tipping your head to the other side, biting your bottom lip. “I guess I mocked him a little… but that was the least I could’ve done! He blatantly accused me of cheating. And that was the first time he said anything! What did he expect me to do?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mind wanders on his next words, playing it out in your head as his face would crumple into a sorrowful expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ If one of those times you were vulnerable because of a fight, or because I was working late again, made you drive there, made you stay the day, or anything… I’ve… I spent the whole year thinking about the way he was looking at you, and the possibility of him being something you wanted. I was scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink slowly, sighing deeply with fulfillment. “He never said anything… and when he did, I didn’t take it seriously.” Realizing how he started talking to you that day, you cradle your face in your hands again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to think that I was pressuring you after our fight. I called you because I wanted to set things straight. I wanted to apologize to you. And I wanted to explain, once and for all, where I was coming from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, remembering how he stood up that day, how he explained his side, and more than anything, how he wanted you to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I made a mistake, and I want to apologize for it. And make sure you understand I comprehend how brutal I was. But you weren’t better… I was hurt, and you didn’t think how that was affecting me. How hurt I was when I asked you about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The birds flap their wings, catching your attention, your mind rushing back from the day he asked for a break. “I know, I know! I made fun of it… I was so mad… it still doesn’t matter. He still wouldn’t have believed me if I said there was nothing going on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rub your temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw it. I saw it in his face. He needed to hear from Noah to believe nothing happened. And I hate that! It’s like nothing I ever did in this relationship ever mattered…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angry tears form on the corner of your eyes. “Unfair… so fucking unfair…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as much as you would love to keep blaming Carl right now, somehow, your heart feels heavy. Too heavy to even think straight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Michael is right…” you toss your head back. “… and Carl didn’t tell me something as big as this, then… I guess it’s a good thing we’re on a break.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Acceptance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What's that last stage of grief again?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The bathtub is filled almost to the rim as you walk in to turn the tap off. There’s a light steam coming from the warm water. The scent of the bath salts emanates from the vapor, filling the whole bathroom with a sweet, citric scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You press let your playlist start, one of your favorite songs picking up tempo in the background, as you climb in the tub, slowly sitting down, to let the water relax you. After the week you had, it’s much needed. Between your projects, the lack of sleep and, as much as you hate to admit, missing Carl, your week was filled with low moments, and barely any highlights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you want is to stay home, listen to some music, maybe binge watch a show. Anything that doesn’t require leaving and interacting with people, having to sustain meaningless conversations or fake smiles, because let’s face it, that requires a lot that you don’t have, right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let yourself melt in the temperature of the bath, grabbing a loofah to exfoliate your skin. The cold soap, and the feeling of having some self-care definitely helps. It’s not that you stopped your routines, but lately, you haven’t focused on the “self” as much. You’ve been working on autopilot, and not being able to enjoy little things, like the taste of your favorite blend in the morning, or the refreshing feeling of having a face mask after a steam shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, a lot of things lost their spark, and you have no idea when that happened. But you’re not about to let it go any further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things are still the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re the one who’s changing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After applying a rose scented sheet of face mask, wrapped in a towel, walking towards your bed. Your robe, clean and fresh from your laundry basket, and Carl’s sweatshirt right next to it, folded into a roll, lie together, just ready to be put on. As you motion to grab them, your phone rings from your vanity, startling you and the peaceful ambiance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, girl!!” Chelsea’s perked up voice is almost muffled by the loud music in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already know what you’re gonna say, and it’s a hard pass, bra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! You need to get out, you need to live a little!!” her voice gets drowned by several people around her, a couple of Gary’s shouts are clear-cut, yelling your name. “Everyone is having so much fun! Come on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m…” you take a look at your bed, the fuzzy robe and sweatshirt almost calling out to you. You hold the phone close to your mouth, on speaker, to not disrupt your facemask. “I’m fine here. I’m just… having a slow night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bra! Please! It’s been three weeks! Come on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby and Gary start shouting pleadings as Chelsea slaps them, pushing them far from the phone. For a split second, you consider putting on a smoking hot dress to paint the town with Chelsea, Priya and the boys, but something deep down tells you it can wait. Tonight it’s not the night. “Sorry, Chels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” you chuckle, grabbing the sweatshirt. “Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fiiiine!” she grunts in her adorable way. “But if you miss out on something great, don’t blame me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best… bra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs on the other side, a little deflated. The voices of your friends having fun in the background are as loud as the song they’re probably dancing to. “Ok. Talk to you later then. Call me if you change your mind. I’m a car ride away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That won’t happen, but thanks for the sentiment. And Chels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make sure you grab Bobby for a dance, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hangs up, making you chuckle as you get dressed, ready to head to your living room. You put your phone down, next to the tray, picking up your cocktail and a slice of bread, pre-arranged on your coffee table. The herbs are fresh, and the softness of the air pockets lure a hum of delight from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since the first time you and Carl had a date, on the outside, he took you to a restaurant in Central London. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it!” Philomena’s is a typical Irish bar, with a wonderful kitchen. “The food from this place is to die for.” The portions of potato and cheddar rolls, and the pies you tried that day certainly made an impression. But the simplicity of the soda bread was unmatched. It turned into a favorite, quickly replacing your usual snacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You fold a leg on top of the other, turning on the TV, picking a favorite to watch. As you flip through the options, taking a sip of your drink, “Star Trek: Discovery’s” cover shows up amongst the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… it’s been a while…” you shrug, taking a gulp from your sweet, colorful cocktail, the icy glass dripping on your lap. “What the hell…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The theme song immediately lures a smile from you, hard not to perk up. As the episodes play, in a sequence, you’re almost able to repeat the lines as they are stated. The hours go by, and the Saturday night slowly turns into a Sunday dawn. You narrow your eyes at one of the episode’s ending, flicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth with a pensive expression, the sugary taste of your beverage fading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That really doesn’t add up… huh… Michael being Spock’s foster sister… I do not resonate with that…!” you pause, topping up your glass. “Huh… he was right… it doesn’t make any sense…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes fall on the spot next to you on the couch, empty. For a moment, you can just picture Carl, throwing his arms, his strands of hair going everywhere as he would shake his head with resolution. “Thank you! It does not make sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a sharp image of him, as he would nudge you to continue his sentence, smirking, victoriously. “Told you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile to yourself, pressing the “play” button, shaking your head and sipping on your drink, slowly relaxing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knight on C3… what a clown!” you make your move, waiting for the player on the other side of the world to make hers. A steaming mug lies on the side of your keyboard, on your desk. “Pawn on E6… are you joking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a couple of sips, the green tea warming you from inside out, a comforting sensation as you make your move. The chat window pops up on the side of the screen, a knowing question, usually sent by the people you play online chess with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You narrow your eyes, wondering if you should respond. Never, in the time you have been playing online chess have you ever talked to any of your opponents, simply moving the pieces to get it over with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drinking tea. And listening to music. You?” you respond, slowly lying back on your chair, your playlist in a low volume, filling your living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same. But it’s beer, not tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m a 100 year-old lady… what can I say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re probably just cold. Then again, you’re playing chess on a Tuesday night, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something, fellow player?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask away.” You smile, watching the next move from ChessMaster03.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would you feel if I just defeated you in the next three moves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scowl, but chuckle right after, rolling your eyes. “Huh… that would be normal, first of all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LOL”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously.” You answer, taking another sip, letting the warm mug heat your palms. “I’m not so good at chess…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“CLEARLY.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheap shot, </span>
  <span>ChessMaster03</span>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LOL it’s just very clear that you’re still learning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop smiling to respond. “Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment goes by, after your move, another message from her pops up. “Something wrong? A story I should know about… a heartbreak maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha… you can say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna talk about it? I’m free” she sends you a smiley face, slightly winking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hesitate but shrug it off. It’s a person from the other side of the world. “You see. It’s not a long story. I started playing chess because of someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you trying to impress this boy? Because if you were, then I’ll believe you when you say you’re old. And he’s not a boy, for sure, if he plays chess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har! That’s conceived coming from you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, it was right there. I couldn’t miss it.” She moves another knight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I was trying to do something so we would spend more time together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm…” The message is followed by three dots, and another sentence. “Did he deserve it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes ChessMaster03 a couple of minutes to respond before her next move. “The effort of learning chess. Did he deserve it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You think back to everything Carl went through before Quarantine, and all the moments of learning he dedicated, even though he couldn’t cook to save his own life or fix a stove tap. “Definitely. He’s…” It takes you a moment to finish your thought. “He’s definitely worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final move, a smiley face appears on the chat tab. “Check mate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re no fun, </span>
  <span>ChessMaster03</span>
  <span>!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not here to lose, Tea.” Another three dots appear before her next message. “Wanna play another one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just so I will lose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“PRETTY MUCH.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shrugging emoji lures a squint from you. “Bring it on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And maybe you’ll defeat this boy of yours if you learn from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, looking at the screen, sipping on your hot beverage. “Yeah. Maybe… but let the arse kicking start now...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough. A tip, if you’re inclined to take it, Tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do tell... I don’t have anything better to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny! But… If you don’t build a wall with your pawns, then what’s the point of the pawns in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes dart to the match, and you facepalm, noticing her strategy. “Point taken. A strong tip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that boy good at chess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… YES.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’ll introduce him so I can kick his ARSE too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… </span>
  <span>ChessMaster03</span>
  <span>… did I ever tell you you’re funny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because you’re not. Make your move. You have the white pieces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A set of appalled gif’s start popping on the chat tab as you play another match, a little more relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long Friday, working, you come home, hanging your purse and coat on the hook, next to your entrance. Your apartment, spotless, since you cleaned it the night before, looks the coziest it ever did in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you can take another step, your phone vibrates in your pocket, a notification about a new movie in theaters, and Gary’s number and name. You frown at the little box. “Gary… I’m sorry… but I don’t wanna see anyone today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swipe the message off your screen, reading the next one, mentioning the new movie. “Launching today, huh?” your eyes roam on your living room, the magazines on your coffee table in neat stacks, the plants all watered and alive, for once, and the rugs clean and vacuumed. “You know what… why not? I deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coat on and purse hanging on your shoulder, you unlock your door to leave, no second thoughts. The movie theater is not far, and instead of driving, you walk there, sheltering yourself from the Fall breeze, buttoning your coat to your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going to the movies would usually be a hard task, since Carl can’t stand it. The idea of watching a movie with strangers it’s off-putting to him, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s always so crowded… so noisy… I have a whole TV room in my house.” He said, gesturing to the lines of people, as you waited to get some food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but not this week’s launching!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s overrated if you ask me...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, even if I don’t, you’ll still say it, anyway…” you linked your arm with his, dragging him inside, to get your snacks, his grumblings never stopping until you reached for your seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the movie was over, you glanced at his satisfied smirk, since your experience was ruined by several loud people in the theater. He narrowed his eyes, a smug look on his face as he placed a finger on his lips, pensively. “Erm… what is that expression again…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes with a clenched jaw, your lips curling into a bored smile. “I don’t know… does it start with “I told you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes. That’s the one. How does it end, again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine…” you gesture with resolution, in the middle of the sidewalk, struggling to admit defeat. “You… were… right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know… it pains me to be this radiant and correct all the time, but… oh well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shush!” you nudge him with a grin, as you walk back to the parking lot, to drive to the pub and have dinner. Before you entered the car, he swooped you in his arms, by surprise, with a smile.  His lips feathered your ear. “I love you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your gazes stayed locked, a tender glint as you leaned over to kiss him. “You wouldn’t say “I told you so” if you did…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! That’s how you know I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gloating? That’s your idea of love? Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, stifling a smirk. “Bantering…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard not to smile to yourself as you walk towards the building, the letters glowing with vivid colors, announcing the launchings of the week. You walk by the glass facade, lost in your memories, not paying attention to your surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A large, muscular shoulder bumps into yours, and you can hear a low mumble. “Oh, sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slip your palms on your coat, making sure your purse still lies on your upper arm. “It’s ok.” As your eyes run from his scarred fingertips to his chest, jacket and chin, you notice a light stubble. The tip of the boy’s nose is red from the cold, but his lips curl into a smile as he sees you. His skin slightly tanned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tips his head to the side, surprised by seeing you, but just as pleased. “Hi…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi…” Your heart thumps, the blood races in your veins as you stare at each other. For a moment, neither of you speak. It’s been over a month since the last time you saw him, and you never expected to run into him in the theaters, from all places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hi…” he repeats it, clearly stunned. “Y-you look… you look great!” he gestures to you with fresh tickets in hands, a bright, tender smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I… thank you. You do too…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes once sunk in dark circles, now alive and glistening, hold your gaze. His hair, arranged in the same way, is a little longer. The dark stubble on his face compliments his skin tone, tanned and beautiful. “Thanks… I’ve… wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” you chuckle, looking at your shoes, trying not to stammer too much, but you can’t put two words together. Your smile grows with every possibility of a conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do look…” Before he can say anything else, a feminine voice resonates from behind you. A girl comes from the opposite side of the entrance, reaching for Carl’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get it?! The others are waiting!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch as she stands beside him, looking at you with sweet eyes, a heavy Scottish accent. “Hi, I’m Veronica.” She extends her hand dressed in a leather glove, staring at you, expectantly. Her olive skin tone is as vivacious as her eyes, a dark shade of chocolate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head rapidly, trying to brush your thoughts off. “Hi… I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know you who are!” she smiles, looking at Carl, shaking your hand with a firm grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles. “Oh yeah, we t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can finish her sentence, Carl cuts her short, patting her shoulder. “Roni, why don’t you go with the others, I’ll be right there.” He shoots her a pointed look, discreetly. She waves with an innocent grin, winking at him, tossing her long curls back. As you watch the perky girl walk away, you cock your brows, not knowing what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that. Roni is really...” he looks at her direction, smiling. “… perky…” he chuckles under his breath, then focuses on you. “So… where were we?” his gaze stays on yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I-I…” you point a thumb behind you, slowly taking steps backwards, stuttering. “I-I was leaving. But…” you take a deep breath, your jaw clenched, but no bored smile following it. “It was… erm… nice seeing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tips his head to the side, as you leave, taking his excitement with you. Carl motions to extend his arm, but you turn on your heel, following the path that took you to the theater. Slowly losing grip of your misty eyes, tears stream down your cheeks. You fasten your pace, heading home, wiping your eyes as you grab your phone from your pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bra…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The intercom is going off for over two minutes. Chelsea impatiently rings it downstairs, stubbornly pressing her finger on the button, with anger. You rush from your shower, leaving a trail of water as you hurry to pick it up. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your key, Chels?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… if I knew, I wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell right now, genius!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to god…” buzzing her in, you move to the bathroom, to finish your shower. She slams the door open, brown bags dangling on her toned arms as she closes the door, kicking it into the frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impossible not to notice, Chelsea!” you walk down your hallway, in a comfy robe and fluffy slippers. “Seriously. A hurricane is more discreet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl! This is an emergency!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, yes! Carl is seeing someone else, and I’ll be damned if I don’t stay by your side during a time like this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not… not a b…” you lick your lips, angrily. “It’s not a big deal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is! You just saw the guy with someone else and you’re acting like it doesn’t bother you!? This is me we’re talking about!” the bags almost hit her face as she raises his arms, enthusiastically. “Release the beast!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise a hand, defensively. “Seriously… you’re gonna lose an eye!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine… let’s get this slumber party started! And I won’t take “no” for an answer!” she shakes her bum from side to side, trying to get you into mirroring her motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chelsea, I’m fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am!” you speak through your teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not!!” she tilts her head to the side, watching your eyes glistening. “You are doing ok with everything else, but please, don’t lie to me! Please… don’t pretend you’re ok!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rub your eyes, catching several tears as she drops the groceries on the floor, rushing to embrace you in a bear hug. “I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not ok, and that’s ok!” she holds you tightly in her arms, kissing the top of your head as she stays on the tip of her heels. “Come here, sit with me.” She drags you to the couch, slowly sitting you down, then scooching close to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just didn’t… I thought it was just a break…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls away, grabbing your shoulders, a fierce look causing a wrinkle to appear on her little nose. “Go ahead! Rage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna rage!” you sob under her touch, her pink sweater with wet spots from your weeping. “I wanna… I wanna go back to the place I was, before I saw him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious!” you slap your hands on your thighs, frustratingly. “I wanna be ok again, like I was three hours ago! That’s all…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deep sigh, Chelsea picks up a bottle from one of the bags, opening it with a thud, handing it to you. “Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grab it by its neck, popping it open. “It’s just… I was ok. For the last month or so… I was alright. Of course, I missed him, but I was…” you sigh with defeat, taking a gulp from the wine. “I was alright…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m so sorry, hun… come here…” Chelsea lets you rest your cheek on her shoulder, your tears sinking into the fabric of her top. She runs her hand on your hair, speaking with a furious voice. “If I see him, I swear to god, I’ll kill him!” her brows furrow as she speaks with intensity. “Going to the movies?! With a date?! Na-ah! I’ll kill that dweeb piece of sh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine… I guess the problem was me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?! Please tell me you’re drunk already!” she throws her hands. “Please tell me this wine is as strong as I expect it to be, because that doesn’t make any sense!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? ‘Cos right now, he’s probably making out with her on their way to the car!” You get up from your seat, heading to the bathroom, without another word. She watches, shoulders slumped, as you walk away, sobbing under your breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chime comes from her purse and she picks her phone up, Gary’s number on the screen. “Rennell, I can’t talk right now! There’s an emergency!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me?!” his voice is desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look… I’m at the theater right now, and Carl saw her before the movie… he’s… she didn’t even talk to him. What’s the matter with her?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean “What’s the matter with her?!” What’s the matter with him?! He’s already moving on even before breaking up!? I’ll kill that dweeb piece of sh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?!” Gary cuts her short. “H-hold on, hold on… let me find a quieter spot.” The noise in the background fades, slowly, as he takes a few steps to reach the entrance of the theater. “Sorry, it’s quite noisy in there. What were you saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That dweeb piece of sh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I got that part!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said… he’s already moving on without even breaking up! And that’s why I’m going to kill him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heading back from the bathroom, you see Chelsea on the phone, slowly nodding at you as you walk in, your eyes red and puffy. Resolutely, she ends the call, with a mischievous smile. “Let’s go out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop on your tracks, confused. “Wh-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Go out! Put that gorgeous body of yours to dance, what do you say?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ch-Chelsea… we were gonna…” glancing at your surroundings, you point to the living room. “No, no. I wanna stay home...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…” you sigh, defeated, rubbing your forehead. “I’m sad… How long was I in the bathroom, for you to change your mind like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About… ten minutes. Anyway!” she rushes to your side, leading you to your bedroom. “I’m sure we can find something on my size, and we will go out, and set this town on fire!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I… I don’t understand… I thought we were having a slumber party…” you resist her hands as they lead you into your bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are! After we get wasted in the club and too drunk to even see the screens of our phones, properly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hesitate, folding your arms, wincing. “I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you can finish, she dives in your closet, rummaging through the hanged pieces, slowly emerging with a fitting dress in her hands, and a grin on her pink lips. “This… is gonna turn heads!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what… wait…” you lick your lips. “What changed? We were gonna have a drunk slumber party!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… I just think…” she stammers a little, glancing at her feet, as someone who looks for the right words. “You need this. You need music, alcohol, and your best friend!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chels…” you tip your head back, avoiding more tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just say “yes”, please. You deserve this…” she sits on your bed, the dress still in her hands. “I just… I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now. And you didn’t even let him have it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scratch the back of your neck, sighing with despair. “I didn’t… I really didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the point?” you shrug, your lip quivering. “Fighting him over something like this. We’re on a break, and he can do whatever he wants, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean he should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only saying that because you’re mad at him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brows furrow as she looks at you, having a delayed reaction. “Right! Mad at him!” her eyes get lost in her shoes before she shakes it off, throwing the dress at you. “Get dressed! We’re leaving soon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You catch it right before it hits your face. “Chels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said… get dressed, we’re leaving soon... we… we need this. You need this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the change of heart?” you squint at her, folding your arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what? There’s… I don’t need to explain my process!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chelsea heads to the hallway, before you can say anything else, winking at you before stepping out. You sigh, looking wistfully at the piece in your hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… not suspicious at all...”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Depression</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>--- This chapter is entirely from Carl’s perspective ---</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>--- This chapter is entirely from Carl’s perspective ---</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The path from her apartment to the elevator seems to take an eternity. Especially after hanging by her entrance, right when you closed the door behind you. Never, in your life, you wrestled so hard against every fiber of your body, to make your decision prevail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You try to convince yourself, over and over, that this is the only solution you have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping in your living room, the ambiance seems somewhat empty. Cold. You toss your keys on the console table and your coat on the couch, slumping on the seat. Your muscles are tense, your head, heavy, and your heart, broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had little to no time to think this through, and just a couple of hours ago, it seemed like the right decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is…” You say to yourself, reminiscing the tears rolling on her cheek the moment you got up, to leave. Your jaw was clenched, in hopes you wouldn’t say what your heart wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word “stay” was echoing so loudly inside of you, you needed to get out of there as quick as you could, otherwise, it would’ve been impossible to make this decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resolving issues with anger was never the way you found to set things straight. That surprised everyone, including yourself. When you looked at your sore knuckles, that afternoon, you couldn’t believe what you had done. And after the second urge to punch his nose, eager to hurt him even more, that was the moment you realized something shifted inside of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You never felt so intensely passionate. Not like that. Not about a person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always talking things through, and like she said, finding practical solutions, this was something never seen before, and unexpected, even if you spent the whole year being insecure about another guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your biggest fear is to drive her away with this break. But if she loves you, and wants the best for you as she said, then it's something you shouldn’t be afraid, or embarrassed, to ask. For the first time in your life, you’re taking control over something that isn’t your company. Something that should’ve always had great value to you, and thanks to her, you now know how to appreciate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a loud thud, you bolt from your seat, heading to the bathroom. There’s a couple of tears on the corners of your eyes, but you can’t help it. It’s been over a year since your life changed completely, for the better, and despite knowing it’s the right thing to do, you know in your heart you’re gonna miss her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shirt, shoes, pants on the floor, you can’t wait to climb in the shower. There are no plans of what to do, where to go, or even what to eat, but a shower always helps, according to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steam fills the bathroom, quickly, the warm water dashes on your shoulder blades, slowly relaxing your muscles. A conversation replays in your mind, almost in a cruel manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s impossible not to think about it, being in the same spot as before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You prop your hands on the tiles, feeling your body weakening. Your eyes close, only to see her image, in front of you, under the water as well. Her damp hair and her smile, as she approached you, with a determined voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just follow your instincts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You exhale sharply from your mouth, remembering that moment, and everything that followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kisses, the sex, the mohawk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rub your eyes under the water, turning the tap off, to climb out of the shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was no help at all, and after the memory your mind played for you, your muscles feel even more tense. Wrapped in a towel, you walk to your bedroom, carrying a couple of body wash bottles and tampons from the sink’s drawer. An open card box waits for the toiletries, along with several pieces of clothing lying on your bed, straight from your closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bathroom… check.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your voice drops to a sad tone as you pack her things into boxes, picking them up from the nightstand, closet, kitchen and your office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All her utensils from the kitchen, and all her items, distributed throughout the house need to be gathered. It pains you more than you thought it would, but you should get used to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything pains you more than it should when it comes to be away from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the best, and smartest decision to take care of this, on the first day. It might be helpful not seeing any of her things scattered around your house. But the more things you gather in the packages, the sharper is the pain in your chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You need to, from time to time, sit on your bed, just to gather the strength to continue your task. You know, deep down, it’s not forever. But it is for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, you look at the corner of your bedroom. The dark grey sweatshirt hangs on the hook, above the chair. It’s one of your favorite memories, and probably one of the happiest as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite having a few relationships in the past, that’s something you envied from other couples, ever since you were a teenager. You would stand and watch girls stealing their boyfriend’s sweatshirts. And they would always look adorable with long sleeves dangling from their arms, visibly excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You never understood why a boyfriend would be happy to have something stolen from them, but it didn’t matter. The smiles on their girl’s face was reason enough for you to want the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never a girlfriend of yours cared enough to make you smile, by stealing a piece of clothing, and since college, until that moment, you classified this habit as “overrated”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image of her, under your tickle attack, and her laughter filling the room, trying to block your fingers, plays out right in front of your eyes. “Ok, ok, milk! I’m tapping out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stopped digging her sides but stayed on top of her, observing her features. Her smile, the outlines of her cheeks, her eyes as she stared back at you, the glint in her eyes. Her whole face would make you grin. She nodded at you, defiantly. “What are you looking at, Mr. Gallagher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing…” you grazed a thumb on her temple, scooping a couple of strands of hair from her eyes. “Just… how cute you look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, if you think I’m cute now, wait until I put this on!” she managed to roll to the side, bolting from the bed. The sweatshirt was gigantic on her, the sleeves dangling, as you thought they would, showing a clear difference between your broad shoulders, and hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do… look even cuter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, right?!” she posed, twirling in place, luring a hearty laugh from you. “You do know if I find more hoodies I like, I’m gonna steal them… all of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you won’t. I won’t let you!” you were lying through your teeth. Nothing would make you happier than having her steal more sportive pieces of clothing from your closet. In your heart, she could steal your bike for all you cared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a moment you cherished then, and you still cherish, now. And even though she blatantly stole your sweatshirt, she kept the tradition, wearing it on Saturday nights, no matter what you were doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If riding your bikes to the park, binge watching a tv show, a movie, or simply trying to cook as your favorite playlist would fill the ambiance, her voice singing along, animatedly. The sweatshirt was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… belong here.” you motion to place the dark grey piece on the bottom of the box, covering it with her shower items. Sniffing, you take a look at it, feeling your heart breaking, and your stomach, in knots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard, but you try to remember a bad time, a bad memory, to let go of the hoodie, but all you see is her, sheltering herself in that, like it was the last piece of clothing she had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even noticing, your hands reach for it, as your head tips to the side. Her perfume emanates from the fabric, luring a couple of tears from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting on the edge of your bed, the task is forgotten. You feel too weak, and too sad, to continue, slowly getting under the covers, the hoodie in your grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the apartment number again?” Raf leans over the rolled down window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s 1250.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright… I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves you in the car, as you wait anxiously. Your assistant carries the boxes from the trunk to the lobby, as she buzzes him in, through the intercom. Your eyes dart to the elevator, through the windows, watching as she appears on the frame of the hall, her cute pajamas and a robe on. The last time you saw her was a week ago, and before you closed the door, every fiber in your body was fighting the urge of turning around to stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She talks to Raf for a while, luring sad smiles from you. As his arms spread for her, in a solidary hug, you prop on your elbow, rubbing your eyes, desperately wanting to trade places with him at this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheek stays on the boney shoulders from the boy, for a moment, before he pulls away, awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?! That was way too short! She needs more!” you say, in the car, incredulous, gesturing to them. Raf walks backwards, opening the entrance door, hopping in the car, bashfully and uncomfortably smiling at her. As he adjusts himself on the driver’s seat, you stare at him. “What the hell was that!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I’m sorry, boss! She needed a hug!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that!! And you gave her a really shallow excuse of one! Go back and hug her, for real!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… what?” he shakes his head, his dark eyes stare at you with confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the lousiest hug I’ve ever seen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok…” he raises, perching his lips for a moment. “Boss… this… is not right.... You shouldn’t be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts you short with a raised hand. “You know you shouldn’t. You’re supposed to take some time for yourself… right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re not supposed to see her. Isn’t that the whole point of taking a break?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” You rub your forehead with the heel of your palm, weighting on Raf’s words as you watch her, carrying the boxes into the elevator. “I don’t even know… I don’t…” you stammer, licking your lips. “I don’t think I’ll get through this time… maybe this was a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir… with all due respect...” Raf’s voice gains a firm tone as he turns to you, grabbing both of your shoulders, holding your gaze. “That’s bullshit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raf!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl! No! If you go back there, and tell her everything is fine, how long is it gonna take for you to punch the next guy that looks at her? How long until you feel jealous again, bottling everything up just like you did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing this because it’s the right thing. Isn’t it?” he searches for your eyes, his gaze kind and open. “That’s the purpose. You’re in this time thing because you don’t know who you are anymore, outside of your relationship!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bite your lips, trying to calculate the next words, in hopes to convince yourself you can go back to her. He continues, with a lighter, kinder tone. “She changed you, for the better, but now… you don’t know who you’re supposed to be. We should always know ourselves better than we know others, in a relationship. Isn’t that the whole purpose of taking a break?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It pains you that a 20-year-old knows better than you, and even more, that you have to admit he’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she presses the button to ride the elevator up, the doors slide, and she disappears from sight. You can’t help, but again, fight the urge of just going back. Your assistant looks at you, expectantly, adjusting his dreadlocks, getting ready to turn the key. More than being right, Raf is looking out for you, but that doesn’t mean it hurts less. He gently tips his head. “Sir…? Permission to give you a hug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes get lost in a mixture of tears and confusion, and before you can give him your verbal answer, his scrawny arms embrace you, fiercely. Somewhere, during the last week, you lost the sense of what you were supposed to do, and instead, you wasted eight days thinking about going back, instead of thinking about yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir… if I may suggest… maybe… try a new hobby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sniff, wiping under your eyes, pulling away from his embrace. “A n-new hobby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Something you’ve never done before, and you can focus on. Something that will bring you joy, you know. Me for instance, I play paintball once a week, down the sports center. Maybe a new physical activity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… maybe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man wraps his long fingers on the steering wheel, resolutely. “Let me drive you back to the office, sir...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought pops in your head, along with a memory. Your eyes wander from the lobby entrance to Raf. “Actually… just… drive me to the grocery store. I need to pick some things up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, the gr-grocery store? It’s ten in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint smile appears on your lips as you fidget with your watch. “Yeah. The… grocery store.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you’re gonna be alright?” Bags on the counter, Raf watches as you scatter recently purchased ingredients on the surface. He leans over the packs of mushrooms, his blue dreadlocks dangling in front of his eyes. “This is a lot of stuff, sir!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” hands on your waist, you feel completely lost, then yet, determined to find the answers. “It is… but I’ll be ok…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. If you need anything, just call… sir.” He raises his arms, stretching, carefree, walking towards the door. You move to walk after him, but he waves over his shoulder. “I know the path, boss… see ya tomorrow.” With a smile, he leaves, closing the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that you are alone, it’s time to learn something new. After all, that’s what everyone does. It was one of your New Year’s resolutions, and the fact that September already arrived, and you still can’t cook to save your life, you’re sort of desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately for you, a good friend of yours was able to reserve some of his time, to teach you through a conference call. Before turning on your laptop and connecting the call, you grab your phone from your pocket, glancing one last time at your wallpaper, a picture of you and her, back in Quarantine, covered in flour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you in a while… I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You exchange it for the most generic plant themed picture you could find. As you prop your device on the counter, Bobby pops up on your screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, big guy! So… you wanted to learn, and I’m here to teach you!” his image on your laptop is bright and perky, and a very bored looking Gary assists him, also in an apron, clearly smaller than his gorilla size body. “Alright, first things up, we’re gonna dice some vegetables!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You prepare your utensils, paying attention to the wrist of your friend, as he expertly works his knife. The pastry chef’s voice is excited, and even though you don’t feel like that, you’re at least eager to try. “So, you hold the bell pepper, taking the “lid” off. Slice it off, real nice...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary already cuts a finger, one minute into the activity. “Bloody hell!” he sucks on the blood gushing from the broken skin, leaving the workstation with an angry puff of air. “Fuck’s sake!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby smirks behind Gary’s back as the boy searches frantically for band-aids. He directs his voice to you. “See, that’s what you don’t want to do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” You watch as Gary rummages through the drawers. For the first time since trying your horrible cheesecake, a week ago, you smile. Genuinely smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might wanna try the bathroom, Garebear!” the chef can’t help but tease him, even though the cut seems deep. As the crane operator leaves, Bobby turns his attention to you, casually slicing the green pepper. “So… how is this break going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… it took you long enough to ask. I was worried.” You shoot your friend a smirk, wincing on your feet, trying to mirror his motions, barely keeping the measurements of the vegetable. “It’s… been a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… I mean... she doesn’t pick up any of my calls, or Gary’s… so I don’t know how she’s been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured she wouldn’t.” you bite your lip, slowly shifting the vegetable, apprehensive. “Have any of you talked to… him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You give Bobby a pointed look, mouthing “Noah”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah!” he responds with a surprisingly upbeat tone. “Chelsea took him to the hospital, by the way... in case you wanted to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stifle a grin, raising your brows. “Oh… good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and Bobby raise eyes from your respective cutting boards, a sly smile growing on both of your lips as you stare at each other. He grabs a third pepper while you slice the first half of yours. “I gotta say. I was close with him and I don’t get it… he should’ve been more vocal about his crush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobs…” you tip your head, finishing your pepper, moving on to the second one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… I just… I don’t get it! If he was interested from the beginning, why not just… I don't know, say something? Why waiting over a year? You know…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He notices your discomfort, immediately mending more words in his sentence. “Anyway bruv… I just want you to know, we’re for you, whatever you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever he’s saying, but in English.” Gary walks in, finger patched up, now clapping and rubbing his palms, excitedly. “Let’s cut some stuff!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby’s eyes dart to you, startled, as he sees his roommate picking up a chef’s knife to execute the job. “Hey… why don’t you… erm…” he searches for the most unthreatening chore for Gary to perform. “Wash the salad…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary leans over, as if he didn’t hear his roommate properly. “I’m sorry… did you just say wash… wash the salad? That’s my chore?” You stifle a laugh and, offended, Gary turns to you, clearly bothered. “Washing the salad, like a child! Can you believe this, Spock!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your eyes at him, grinning. “Yes. I can. Absolutely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary twists his lips in his known frown, turning to pick up the leafy bouquet of lettuce. “This is some bullshit, is what it is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby grins under his lashes as he continues to chop the vegetables, continuing his class. After an hour of instructions, your dish comes out of the even, golden on the top, just a little burned on the bottom. The savory scent fills the air, the most unbelievable mess on your kitchen island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pastry chef gestures with his wooden spoon. “How can you make such a mess being just one person?” unapologetically, it looks like he wants to cross the screen and clean the hurricane effects on your workstation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it cleaned… that’s the only thing I know how to do in a kitchen…” you chuckle under your breath, and as you see the doubt in both of the boys’ faces, you explain. “Usually… she cooks… I clean. Because I’m a disaster with food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly!” Gary points to your chest, flour all over your navy-blue shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I was never really good with this stuff.” You tap your chest, making a mushroom cloud of flour hover in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why do it at all? Why try to cook?” Bobby shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I promised I would learn. It was one of my resolutions. To be able to make a cheesecake for her, by the end of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary squints in confusion, propping on his elbows, holding a dish towel. “Hm… so why are we making pizza then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image of her perfect pizza toss, from several months ago, plays right before your eyes. “Because… it’s fun...” you smile to yourself as you clean the marble top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys exchange a look and with a shrug, they turn to grab the tray to cut the pizza. “It looks good!” Gary laughs, winking at you, adjusting his band-aid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the cheesecake I made for her looked good too and that was… a disaster…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crane operator nods at you with a smug look on his face. “Don’t sweat it, bruv. We’re here for you, and every kitchen needs you might have!” his roommate clears his throat, looking pointedly at him. “Fine, Bobby is here for your every kitchen need, and I’ll probably just watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes but can’t help a laugh as you cut into the pizza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold air in the waiting room is heavy and the leather of the couch is uncomfortable enough to make you shift on your seat, multiple times, catching the attention of the people around you. The room smells faintly like lemon, a scented candle is lit close to the reception area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Gallagher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your head to the receptionist, the nervous twitching of your leg ceasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Waiters will see you now.” She gestures to the door with a small plaque hanged, the same name engraved in golden letters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-Thanks…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apprehensive, and a little nervous, you step in the office, slowly absorbing the sober design of the room. The tall shelves, behind her desk, shelter not only her books, but also small, discreet trinkets, portraits, among other items, such as plants and candles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low, almost hoarse voice comes from the door, as a tall, shoulder-squared woman enters the room behind you. “Good morning, Mr…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-call me Carl.” Uneasy, you follow her gesture to the couch in front of her, slowly taking a seat as you do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing today, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Waiters has a tone of grey in her eyes behind the thick frame of her glasses. The shade of her hair reminds you of the dry nuts in the Fall, slowly fading in color. She stays imposing, holding in her bony hands a notepad and a glinting pen, clearly of esteem. “Do you know why you’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I…” you clear your throat. “I’m not sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about what made you seek for a therapist in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, lips perched. After a sigh, your voice, still tense, slowly loses the trembling undertone. “I think I…” you cut yourself short, staring at your fingertips. Dr. Waiters gives you an encouraging nod, still holding a neutral expression. After a deep breath, your voice flows even easier. “I had this incident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hums, writing down on her notepad, slowly raising her greyish eyes to you. “Tell me what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” you fiddle with the bracelet of your watch. “I punched someone…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The therapist raises her eyes above her glasses, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “Let’s talk about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your living room is quiet. The morning is cold, but there are beams of sun coming through the curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a seat in the middle of the rug, folding your legs so you can concentrate. Your mind rushes to places you don’t want to go, swirling into memories you don’t want to relive. The focus is easily shifted as you think about what you need to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart racing, muscles tense, lips parted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do people do this?!” you throw your arms in defeat. “Honestly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instructions clearly said focus on the nothing. “How can I focus on nothing?! That makes me think of everything! I’m not made for this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a frustrated sigh, you get up from the floor, pacing the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How? Just… how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes roam on your well decorated space, each of the details of the carved panels, or the art pieces, give you a reason to persist. Something about the walls around you force you to endure and focus. Determinedly, your body goes against your will, sitting on the floor, almost as if on a dare against your mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You make an effort to close your eyes and keep them shut. Without hesitation, you start the traditional humming, slowly feeling more ridiculous than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to applaud! How the hell do people do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the blue, a memory from the Villa rushes to your mind. A moment where Rocco, despite trying to seduce all of the girls, sat on one of the stretchers, folding his legs just as you, pinching his fingers together. The show was playing in the background as you tried to develop a new code, on a random Friday night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about your safe place.” He said, in his Belfast accent. “Go to your favorite place in the world, even if it’s a person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew, Rocco!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice caught your attention, and you turned to see her, sitting next to Hope. Her screen time was the only one you were interested in. She smirked, receiving a hard nudge from Lottie, but remained in Lotus position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the girls, and Rocco tried to focus, she would open one eye to spy her surroundings, winking at the boys by the pool, Gary and Bobby, and doing funny faces to mock the other three, as they successfully meditated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mind rushes back, remembering Rocco’s words, and with a growing smile on your lips, automatically, you repeat to yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… safe place… safe… place…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s bound to happen when you suppress those feelings, Carl.” Dr. Waiters writes down an observation on her notepad, slowly raising her eyes to you. “You waited long enough to let those feelings take over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was…” you sigh before continuing. “I was never the type… I never did anything remotely violent in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps the traumas from your childhood only added to your actual feelings, recently. Did you ever think about those events you told me about, in our last session?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stammer. “I-I don’t… I don’t like thinking about them... not if I don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see that. Sometimes, it’s hard to let go of the past, especially when you feel it might be repeating itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-how do we let go? It’s not like I can…” you rub the heel of your hand on your forehead. “It’s not like I can confront them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t, it’s true. But perhaps you should think about your future and what’s in hold for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem! I can’t! I always manage to ruin everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl.” Her composed voice lures a deep breath from you. “You have a lot to take care of. And the suppression of those feelings led you to assault a person. Possibly, you already know why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lick your lips, remembering the conversation you had in Noah’s kitchen, slowly letting your fingers loose on your thighs. “I guess I never felt like this before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never been in love before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head tips back as you stare at her unusually white ceiling. “I have. A couple of times. But neither of those times was like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s different?” she squints, adjusting her glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess… her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you elaborate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I was never like this with anyone. She brings this side of me…” you trail off, folding your arms, still staring up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me. Is she toxic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jump from your position, shaking your head. “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Then how is your relationship with her? It’s been a few sessions, and we haven’t touched that subject yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” with a sigh, and an insistent smile, you speak, at ease. “We’re good together. She takes care of me, worries about my health.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was she accepting of this suggestion of a break in your relationship?” she looks at you expectantly, still writing down on her pad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was. She was the first person to tell me I’m a priority. I come above it all.” Your therapist smiles lightly, before recomposing as you continue. “She’s been a good influence, actually. By far, the best relationship I’ve ever had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Waiters nods, tapping the tip of her pen on the paper, her brows furrowing. “Even better than your prior engagement?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Possibility</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>--- This chapter is entirely from Carl's perspective ---</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The boys rub their palms, trying to warm up from the cold as they call your personal number, in hopes to take you out to have a drink. “He’s taking too long! The lobby is right there! Let’s just get in, Bobs!” Gary gestures to the glass doors in front of them.</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, stop whining!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello…?” you pick up your phone, immediately recognizing your friends’ voices. “Bobby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Finally! Come downstairs, we’re having happy hour!” his raspy tone trembles from the cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean… come downstairs?” your voice drags itself from your chest as you hoist yourself up, slowly opening your eyes. The afternoon sun beams through the window as you untangle your legs from the white sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary takes the phone from his roommate’s hand, jaw clenched with the low temperature. “He means we’re in front of your office building, freezing our balls off, waiting to take you out to drink! Now get down here, or I’ll come up and kick your arse!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t go out with you, mate…” you get up from the bed, fingertips sliding the curtains from the large window, revealing a vibrant turquoise in front of your bungalow. “Guys… I’m in Brazil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary freezes in place, twisting his lips into his known frown. “Excuse me? I’m sorry…. I thought I heard you saying you’re… in Br-Brazil!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stretch your arms above your head, slowly cracking your spine, yawning lazily. “Yes. I arrived yesterday. Had a safe flight, then had a good morning of sleep…” you check your watch. “… and beginning of the afternoon, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary covers the speaking portion of the phone, turning to Bobby. “He’s in Br-Brazil…” his furrowed brows lure the same motion from the pastry chef.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby takes the phone back, gesturing as he speaks. “You’re fucking with us! You’re not in Brazil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, you tap on the corner of your screen, starting a video call, posing in front of the window, smiling shyly. The bright sky and clear water, behind your accommodation, frame your face perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god!” the boys are baffled, watching as you slide the glass door, stepping outside, to take a seat by the chair on your porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you turn your head, your skin being bathed with a beam of golden light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To say the least!” Bobby’s jaw drops as you wave the phone around, showing the chain of rocks behind you, slowly moving to the opposite side, the sun glistening on the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… let me get this straight!” Gary’s voice sounds loud as he shakes his head with resolution. “We came all the way from Chatham, and we’re freezing our balls off while you’re in Brazil, doing… what exactly?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm…” you shrug with a bashful smile. “I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crane operator stammers, his mouth opening and closing, not able to form a full sentence. “Y-you’re n-not… sure… y-you, y-you’re not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby snorts, raising his brows. “Spock… I think you broke him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a hearty laugh, you wave. “Guys. It’s time for breakfast and I gotta go. But… I’ll see you soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will see us soon...?! Will see us soon?!” Gary turns, incredulous, throwing his arms, pacing the sidewalk. “Oh, he will see us soon!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pastry chef turns to you with a sly smile, in the background, his roommate’s voice can be heard, still baffled and a little outraged. Bobby continues, staring pointedly at you. “Yeah, you definitely broke him. So… you’re… in Brazil...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you… alone…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head hangs back as you laugh, warmly. “Yes. I am alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what the hell, man?! What gives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh, reminiscing on your decision. “I don’t know. I thought it would be a good thing… I was never here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will see us soon!!” even from the other side of the avenue, it’s possible to hear Gary’s scandalized tone of voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any idea when you’re coming back, Mr. Gallagher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pout, in thought, tipping your head to the side. “No… no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, now you’re just fucking with me!” Bobby laughs, lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I came here to spend some time alone. And that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna…”  You take a deep breath, the saline air slowly luring a smile from you. “I’m gonna stay here… and I’m gonna… enjoy it. But… I’ll see you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crossing the street, Gary puts his massive hands on his hips, impatient. “Did he just say, “I’ll see you soon” again?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I better get going, before Gary reaches my phone, bruv. So… I guess… I’ll see you when you come back. Whenever that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call you guys.” With a wave, and watching Gary’s red face approaching the camera, you hang up the call, tossing your phone on the side table by your seat, carelessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is a little over peak position, lighting up your bedroom, the light color of the furniture reflects prism of colors. Your eyes turn to peep inside, as if waiting for someone to step out of the room, to join you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you realize you’re alone, you sigh, with a weak smile. Your stomach growls, reminding you to dial the reception’s number, to order your food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room service is quick, and as you tip the servant, you move your plate and beverage to the balcony, taking a seat on the wooden floor, watching a pack of birds on the rails behind the bungalow next to yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light breeze hits the surface of the water, causing tiny waves to ripple on your dangling feet. You take hungry bites from your sandwich, eyes darting on the landscape, just as beautiful as the trip you took after Quarantine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun, the sea and the tranquility. All the same elements, somehow, feel different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rock formation, in the middle of the water, composes the line in front of you, hosting packs of seagulls as they fish from the waves that crash on the pinnacle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart beats rhythmically, making you smile, your calm unmatched. You never noticed your heart thumping before. That happened several times in the past, but almost never for a good reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One time, a good memory you recollect, is the one that happened a few years ago, when you got a loan to open your company. From start to finish, you were pulsing with nervous energy, and after the interview, you got it. It was yours, and yours only. The work ahead surely would make you regret your decision sometimes, but you were never afraid of hard work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second time you remember being aware of your own heartbeat, was when you stepped forward from the entrance of a certain mansion, seeing her, live, for the first time. She was gorgeous on TV, and her banter and loyalty outshined anyone else’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That day, you felt it in your heart, and in the pit of your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the hair, or how the bathing suit fit, the voice, or the looks. It was the unbeatable combination of all of those, and her killing personality. You were screwed the moment you met her, even more when she described herself as “hard working, reliable and organized.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a good balance…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words definitely charmed you into silly smiles and insecurity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much insecurity, it was hard to stay close to the group at times. Compared to blokes like Arjun or Elijah, or even Graham, as much as you wanted, it was impossible to disguise your anxiety, and the solution you found was staying behind the rose bushes, taking several deep breaths, throughout the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would even approach you, afterwards, with a curious, mischievous smile. “Where were you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just hanging out in the bedroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, you were… I’ve got my eye on you, Mr. Entrepreneur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t help a bashful smile whenever she showed interest, even more when she was the one to stay close to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never told me what your first impression was.” Her voice was lazy and she grazed a thumb on your knee, after a whole afternoon of “exercising” in the living room, her content smile beaming towards the window, her eye color salient with the sunlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I did…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you didn’t. You always skip this part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lazily brought her closer, and she rested her chin on your chest, insistently holding your gaze, eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok… ok…” you chuckled, picking up the strands of her hair, putting them behind her ear. “I honestly thought you were out of my league.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You still do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps, you’re beginning to believe her when she gives you words of reassurance. “You’re just as competent, intelligent and beautiful as I am. If anything, neither of us is superior. We’re both… high quality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, it was hard to take it as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It always has been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You endured years and years of shameful nicknames and forceful jokes at your cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You get used to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You start to believe in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes more than just a couple of sincere words from the love of your life to make you believe in something different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To make you realize your worth and yourself as someone who deserves to be respected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And fortunately for you, you have that person. She is the kind of girl that not only tolerates your little quirks, but actually likes them. She’s nothing but rare. And your heart will always skip a beat when you see her, just like the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It… skipped a beat?” she coyly bit her bottom lip as you finished your story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It did…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As your mind rushes back in, you smile to yourself, feeling the sun tingling on your skin, warming it up. Even when you don’t realize it, you think about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You think about her all the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could you not?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lying on your back, fingers laced behind your head, a deep, satisfied breath relaxes your muscles, even more than before. For the first time in months you were able to simply follow your instinct. Instead of doubting yourself, you went ahead and acted on an impulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One that led you to this place, that if you’re lucky enough, you’ll bring her someday. You can already see the look on her face when her feet touch the water. A playful smile insists on dancing on your lips as you picture her, splashing you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impossible not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, and the vision of a possible future, you drift off under the bungalow roof, the warmth on your skin comfortable, and the water ripping in your feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chime of your phone wakes you up from an afternoon slumber. Rolling to the side, tangled in the sheets, the number on the screen makes you smile, and you gently swipe the little box, picking up the call. “Dea!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boss! How’ you’ doing?” serious, yet warm, you can hear her pacing in the office, several voices coming from her side of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m…” you squint at the peaking sun, the one o’clock light crashing through the window as you shield your eyes, yawning. “I’m good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, are you sure? You sound weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just woke up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ok… wait, what? It’s five in the afternoon! What time is it there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You check your watch, sluggishly. “Um… one…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing, asleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrug, hoisting yourself up to lean on the headboard. “Just a nap. It happens. I rented a jet ski today, and driving that thing is exhausting. But anyway… what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! Did you just say you drove a jet ski today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chuckle escapes you as you plant your feet on the floor, slowly moving to open the sliding door. “Yeah. That’s what I said. It was too dangerous, but I still enjoyed it… sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm… okay…” Andrea stammers, trying to form a full sentence. “Anyway, I just called because I had a meeting with Mr. Fernandez, and we made sure the offer was the one you wrote down. He’ll be here next week, to sign the contracts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You perk up, stepping outside with a grin. “Are you serious?! That’s great news!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… and I’m calling you because…” she hesitates with a concerned undertone. “… you need to be here to sign it with him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea’s voice trembles. “J-just “sure”? Just like that? Just sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chuckle under your breath, watching a chain of surfers on the horizon, reaching the shore as the wave crashes. “Yeah. Just like that. I’ll probably be back by Tuesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tuesday, huh?” you can imagine Andrea’s smirk as she continues. “So…? Having fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dea… let’s be honest here. You don’t care if I’m having fun…” you swipe your finger on the rails of the balcony, watching the sunlight dancing on the sea surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I do! Because when you come back, you’ll have a lot of work! A lot of unfinished business…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your brows furrow as you bend over, slowly opening the mini fridge door, picking up a bottle of beer. “Unfinished business?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… you have your therapy sessions, the contracts, possibly new codes to develop…” she hesitates. “Other… matters… you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pick up on her sharp tone, a smile growing on your lips as you take a seat on the floor, snapping the cap from the beverage, your feet moving in circles, in the water. “You mean my relationship?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea whispers. “Well… now that you mentioned… hold on…” you can hear the noise in the background fading, and her heels clicking as she walks, a door closing, probably to speak to you in private. “I heard she’s been doing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” you cut her short with a serene, but incisive tone of voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh with a cunning smile. “I don’t wanna know, Andrea… not now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-w-what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will know what she’s up to once I talk to her. Once I’m back in London.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hold on! Wait! You’re telling me that you, Carl, don’t wanna know what’s going on in here? With her?!” the image of Andrea gesturing widely makes you grin, shaking your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right. I’m trying to take some time here, Dea. Not just from the company, or from London. From everything.” You roll your eyes playfully, taking a gulp from the icy bottle. “And if I wanna enjoy it, I don’t wanna feel anxious over things I can’t control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s bullshit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tip your head back, laughing. “Is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” she doesn’t hesitate and responds even before you finish your sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look…” you lick your lips. “Thing is, I have been dealing with things in a certain way, and they didn’t necessarily turn out as I hoped they would. So… I guess it’s time for a change. There’s a saying that goes “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”. Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing, and I think it’s time I change my ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clears her throat. “Ok… Einstein is not known for his successful love life…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Einstein never said it… at least, not originally. And yes, he had a successful marriage, at least the second one, as far as I’m concerned…” you brush it off, shaking your head rapidly, taking a sip from your beverage. “But that’s not the point here. The point is… it’s time I try a different way. I’m not saying I’m changing who I am. I’m saying… I don’t know, I’ll be open to diversity. To things that might work for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, she doesn’t speak, as if she was looking for the right words, but they were clearly escaping her. You continue speaking, after a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dea. I had some people giving me advice, and I should follow them. I should let go of my pride and try again. You know… I’ve spent my whole life working in the same mode. It’s time for a change. It’s time to listen...” You trail off. “Your son gave me good advice, you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts you short. “See, this is how I know this is ultimate bullshit! Raf? Giving good advice?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should give him more credit than that. He gave me amazing guidance. And you know what?” you chuckle with the cold droplets hitting your lap. “I’m having a good time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… you don’t… wanna know?” she trails off in her question, her voice lowering in volume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Your heart thumps and it’s impossible to deny how much you miss her, but for your own sake, and the purpose of this trip, and the break, you opt for the best for you. “I’ll… call her when I’m ready, and we can talk then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs loudly, slowly nodding as she goes back to the bullpen, the noise on her side, increasing in volume. “Fine. Suit yourself. In the meantime, I just wanna say…” she pauses, drumming her manicured fingers on a hard surface, producing a known melody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” A genuine smile appears on your lips and for a moment, neither of you talk. Andrea’s breathing goes louder, and you notice her unsettled self. “Go ahead. Say what you wanna say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… don’t wanna say anything, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you do. Just say it. Admit it!” you use your most mocking voice possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!” she lets a chuckle escape, before clearing her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aha… sure… come on, Dea… I know you better than that, just admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, that could only mean she’s admitting defeat, and a bothered tone to her voice, she speaks, coyly. “We really miss you, boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you guys too, Andrea. And… don’t worry. Promise I’ll bring you something nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking better! After everything I’ve been putting up with, I expect diamonds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Shiny, it is. But I trust your work, Dea. I’m sure everything is under control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It is… doesn’t mean it’s easy, you know!” She scoffs, causing you to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know…” you pick up a fake serious tone. “I’m sure you’re working double… maybe triple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bet your pale arse I am!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s why I’m giving you a raise when I come back. Sounds good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stutters for a moment, almost not being able to pronounce a single syllable word. “W-what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good talking to you, Dea. See you next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stammers, but before she can respond, you end the call, turning your phone off. As you step in the bedroom, you turn on the music in your phone, sitting down on the floor, facing the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instrumental flute starts filling the peaceful air and the sun tickles your skin, bringing a peaceful sensation to your heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Let’s do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You close your eyes, taking deep breaths, letting some of the anxiety out with every sharp exhale. Tempted to listen to what Andrea had to say, you still contemplate the possibility of calling her, just to hear some news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You say it out loud, picturing yourself on a floatie, in a pool. It feels so real, the touch of her fingertips on yours brings a genuine smile to your lips, along with another deep sigh. Your muscles relax, from top to bottom as a wave of peace invades your body, while you focus on your happy place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing in and out, you let yourself fall into a completely empty space, your mind wandering, and your breathing, rhythmical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Safe place… safe place…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you finish buttoning up your shirt, the doorbell goes off. “I’m coming!” you rush to your front door, hearing the excited voices outside, waiting for you to open. A raspy, a gravely and a feminine voice talk to each other until you turn the knob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” your friends immediately spread their arms, taking a couple of steps forward, a girl behind them, stepping in as they hug you, one right after the other. “How are you, man?!” Bobby squeezes your shoulder, grinning openly. “Looking pretty good, Spock!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?” you look down at your shirt and he grabs your hand to twirl you in place, whistling. “Stop…” you laugh, slapping his hand away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! Give us a spin!” Gary plays around you, laughing as he gestures to the girl accompanying them. “This is Veronica…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl extends her hand to shake yours, smiling perkily. “Hi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know who you are!” she throws a dismissive hand, turning to face your living room. “The boys talk about you all the time! I feel like I know you already!” There’s a spark in her dark eyes as she looks at you, then laughs, once Gary winks at both of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, please, come on in!” you gesture to the small distribution hall, heading to the sitting area, the three of them following your lead. They take seats on your leather couch, hanging their coats on the backrest as you indicate, getting comfortable. Bobby already heads to the bar, behind the dining room table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” you rub your palms together, excitedly. “How are you guys? I feel like we haven’t talked in ages!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… that’s thanks to you, Jet-ski boy!” the pastry chef searches for the glasses on the shelf, staring at you through the mirror in front of him. “Any preferences?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile. “I’ll have a scotch and soda.””</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, that sounds good, I’ll have the same. Roni?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, just a vodka cranberry for me.” She smiles, communicating with the boys through looks, her delicate hands lying on her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two Scotch and sodas and a vodka cranberry coming right up!” Bobby nods, resolutely, picking up the bottles, pouring the content into the shaker. Gary glances at the girl before joining Bobby, by the bar, leaving you and her, by yourselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” she leans over, scooching closer. “How are you? The boys told me you’re just back from a trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I… took a mini break, sort of.” You chuckle. “Just something I should’ve done a while ago, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean the trip or the break?” She has a kind smile on her glossy full lips, and as she crosses her legs, her fist rests under her chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess both…” You can’t help but notice the dimple in her cheeks as she smiles, reminding you a bit of Chelsea. “I was never the kind of guy to just decide anything out of the blue, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dark eyes roam on your living room, stopping by the sculptures on your console table, then focus on you, perkily. “I guess you do look like the kind of lad that thinks a lot before acting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am that. What about you, Veronica?” you fold your arms on your chest with a grin “What kind of girl are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, tipping her head, glancing at Gary, her Scottish accent heavy. “I’m the type of girl that loves her friends and will do anything to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod slowly, realization dawning on you as you grin. “Right… so, you’re here because… what? You wanna help me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know…” she shrugs. “Do you need help with anything? Perhaps… matters of business… fitness…” she smirks. “Love…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Smooth, Veronica. Very smooth…” Your head hangs back as you laugh, heartily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say? We learn these things with time, right?” she nudges you. “So… do you wanna talk about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squint, still grinning. “Ab-about…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matters of the heart! Of course, it’s a matter of the heart! I might give you a tip or two on investments, but let’s face it, that’s not what you’re interested in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, hold up. I’m always looking for good investments, and I wouldn’t dismiss a professional adviser.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs, her shoulders heaving. “Right… but come on! It’s Friday night, and I doubt you wanna talk about business. I know I don’t! And I’ll let fitness for that boy over there.” She nods at Gary, who tries to eavesdrop, discreetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly…” You glimpse at him, who pours a shot of vodka in a tumbler, trying to disguise his interest in your conversation. “I don’t think I need help. Truly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Whatever you say. But…” she raises her thick brows with a gentle grin. “Whenever you need… you can call me.” she whips a business card from her coat, handing it to you, giving you a cheeky wink. “Anytime you need, Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks…” after glancing at it, the card goes in the pocket of your pants, as you perch your lips. For a moment, you see her intentions right through her. Not only hers, but the boys’ as well. You lick your lips with a smile but put a hand on her shoulder. “I appreciate that. Seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway…” she beckons the boys. “You can come back now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby brings a tray with four glasses, trying to communicate through dirty looks. “Pff! Yeah, because the drinks are ready, Veronica!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, shaking your head. “Real smooth, guys… real smooth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s us! In a nutshell!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each of you grab your respective drink, clinking the glasses to take a sip. Gary holds his tumbler between his massive fingers, humming with the sharp flavor of his cocktail. “So… now that you’re back… tell us more about the trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I took a lot of pictures, and I had a lot of fun. That’s about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby almost chokes with his drink, placing a hand on your chest, trying to stop you. “Wow! Please, stop talking! I don’t need the details!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrug, sipping on your scotch and soda. “I don’t know. I didn’t leave my room much. Didn’t have to. The water was right there, by my porch, and the room service was incredible!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica sips on her vodka. “Yeah? What else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… I would walk at night, swim, eat, drink, meditate. It wasn’t a big deal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, it wasn’t a big deal?!” Gary leans over, his vivid blue eyes stare at yours with curiosity. “You just took a trip, to a different continent, mate! That’s huge! How did that happen, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your glass lies in your grip and you look at it, pensively. A moment later, you put it down, on a coaster, lacing your fingers. “Well, one day I was at the office, and Dea came in, bringing a lot of paperwork for me to sign. I was searching for a recipe… and she saw my screen and asked about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was the recipe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For Caipirinha.” Seeing the confusion on their faces, you rush to explain. “It’s a cocktail. A Brazilian cocktail. She… made it for me, once, but I didn’t remember the ingredients, so I was looking for the recipe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby sips on his purple drink, eying you with an impressed look. “Oh… how does that turn into you going to Brazil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let the man finish!” Veronica smirks with another sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Veronica. So… I explained it to her, and she told me if I wanted some legit Caipirinha, I should go get it. In Brazil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby laughs, frowning. “I’m sure she was joking!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was… but I started thinking, and realized… I’ve never done anything like that before, so, that afternoon, I reserved a one-way ticket. So, yeah…” you shrug, finishing your drink as they shake their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like that? You simply decided to go to a different continent?!” Gary puts his glass down, rubbing his palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much. I don’t know… if I had stayed here, it would’ve been harder not to call her, or I don’t know, drop by. It was taking me everything to not visit or contact her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you seemed fine, mate…” The pastry chef gets up to get a refill, grabbing your glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was. I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t…” you sigh, trailing off, licking your lips as your eyes fall on your own lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss her.” The girl perches her lips, tapping her glass after turning the heads from the boys and you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Thank you. You can be ok, and feel alright, and even get better at a lot of things… but still… I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gary’s eyes narrow as he turns his torso to face you.  “Have you… you know… called her yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” You cradle your face in your hands, shaking your head, your voice muffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to?” Veronica’s voice is firm as she takes a gulp from her burgundy drink, casually raising her eyes to look at the three of you, her thick legs crossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-can, can we talk about something else?” Your head hangs low, and she exchanges a look with you, slowly leaning forward to put her glass down on the coaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure…” her gaze roams on the room for a moment, and she notices a wooden box below the coffee table. “How about a game?” she nudges Gary, indicating your poker set, slowly grabbing the box, dividing the chips and cards. “Poker anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in.” In unison, the rest of you respond with a grin, you feel your shoulders relax a bit as she shuffles the cards, Gary putting the coasters and glasses on the side tables by the couch, and Bobby bringing the bar cart to the opposite side of the seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we betting?” the crane operator nods at you as Veronica deals the first card.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about… stories?” the girl smirks, nudging you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“St-stories?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s the way we hear about your trip to Brazil, so be it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… sneaky! I love it!” Gary shoots her a smirk, moving to grab the second card from her hand. You shrug with defeat but can’t help smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine… let’s bet… stories…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby sits on the opposite side of your chair, each of you forming a square, analyzing your cards. You and Veronica share a grin as Gary already gives his tail, whipping his brows three times in a row.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head. “This might be fun, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never thought a bloke like him would unlock that sort of thing. He’s not the type of person people don’t like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True. But that’s because I saw the way he was looking at her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You became protective, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, slowly, perching your lips as your hands stay on your lap. “Very… I didn’t even see anything when it happened. And when I saw him, bleeding, and he mentioned her, my fist was already halfway from the second punch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises her brows for a split second. “Carl. You told me a while ago this is the first time you go to therapy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s correct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crosses her legs, putting aside her notepad and pen. “These feelings you had towards him. You told me you felt insecure about their friendship, and you even accused her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Which I said I don’t regret, but I’m…” you pause, shutting your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. “I’m not sure why I thought that. She was always loyal. I didn’t have a concrete reason to believe she would cheat on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a concrete reason, but a suspicion, perhaps?” Dr. Waiters twines her fingers, both hands on her knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do see a pattern in your actions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoot her a confused look. “A pattern?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Carl, you deal with anxiety for a long time. You told me how difficult it is to understand people, and feelings. How you find it hard to deal with the emotions they bring. However, even as confused as you were, as you are, you still have them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t suppress your feelings. They’re there for a reason. You’re human. You’re allowed to have a sentiment towards an action or person. Suppressing that won’t make it disappear.” She pauses, taking her glasses to wipe them in a small tissue. “It will be buried until they’re triggered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Triggered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, kindly. “Yes. One small word, action, even a motion can work as a trigger. Once you get in that mindset, it’s quite impossible to avoid it. What you experienced, with this man, Noah, was something people call a “I had enough” moment. But really, it was you, not letting your feelings toward him stay buried anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” you lick your lips, furrowing your brows as you toy with the bracelet of your watch. “… yeah. I get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your anger issues were never worked on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My…” you cut yourself short, staring at your knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You anger issues. Carl. You do have them, and you were provoked until you released every uncertainty, and every moment of anger you didn’t deal with, prior to that day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why…? Why that day? Why did I go after him that day? Why couldn’t I wait until the next morning? Or the next week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t it the day you asked her to move in with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You toss your head back, slowly resting it on the couch. “It was… I guess I just couldn’t take it… knowing she was there, after our fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noah was the reason why you drove to Romford to confront her. But your insecurity towards your prior engagement was the reason you doubted her, in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your hand, staring at your fingertips as they move towards your mouth. Halfway through, you stop yourself. Dr. Waiters notices your motion, tilting her head slightly to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl. That used to be the way you dealt with your anxiety. I can see a couple of scars. They run deep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They…” you glimpse at your fingers. “They do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did it start? You, nipping on them, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… ” you adjust yourself on the seat, sighing, knowing fully well it wouldn’t do any good to hide or to bury the information. “The day I made it into the chess club. I was fourteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fourteen? Wasn’t this a happy moment? I assume you entered this club because you wanted to.” she cocks her brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was supposed to be… my father… he…” you turn to face the window, trying to focus on the leaves that fall, averting her gaze. “He wasn’t exactly proud. I should say my mom wasn’t either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chess wasn’t the activity they expected from you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, biting your inner lip, but keeps your focus on the dry branches close to the office’s window. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just… I wasn’t what they expected, at all. And if I’m honest, they’re not what I expected either. I always saw my peers at school, complaining about their parents, but the most they did was… I don’t know, demand higher grades, or not buy the phone in the color they wanted.” You feel a tear, propping yourself on the leather couch, wiping under your eye. “Mine… couldn’t accept who I was. Not even a single part of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who were you, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A nerd.” You chuckle sadly, turning your gaze to her. “A geek that always liked technology and superheroes. I grew up watching space shows. You know… like Star Trek, everything that was space themed. I remember…” You sniff, wiping your eyes as they become mistier. “How my father would look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The therapist nods, shifting her position on her chair. “How did you feel after the car crash?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrug, your eyes falling on her navy-blue rug as you reminisce on the day your parents passed away. “Empty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Empty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… empty. I always thought, eventually, I would set things straight with them. Maybe we would be close, with time... when I had my business.” Your palms rest on your knees. With a sigh, you shut your eyes. “They never saw who I became.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rests a fist under her chin, a neutral expression. “Are you proud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raise your head. “Proud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of whom you’ve become.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shoot her a pensive look and your mind stops flooding the images of your parents. For a moment, all your memories from that time fade. Her question sounds simple enough to have an answer right away, but the more you think about it, and repeat it silently to yourself, the more confused you get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t… I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Waiters holds the tip of the pen against the paper, raising her eyes over the frame of her glasses. “Are you proud of your choices?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so…” you shrug with low energy. “But I’m not all the choices I've made, am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles kindly, at ease, putting her notepad down. “No, Carl. You’re not your choices.” You look at her, under your lashes, fiddling with your fingers. She continues, holding her chin with her index finger and thumb, her rings bouncing back the weak sunlight. “And now that you realize you’re not your choices, perhaps it’s time to forgive yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod. “I think I have. I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I ask you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you called her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh, an undertone of annoyance. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s due to you, not feeling ready, or the fear of reprimand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gloomy chuckle escapes you. “Both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not feeling secure to reach out to her is completely normal, Carl. It has only been a month. Sometimes, that’s not nearly enough to understand yourself and move on from such an event as the one you two went through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your leg twitches with nervous energy as you hold back tears. “I still miss her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you know you’re on the right path. You will know when the time is right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How? I don’t think I’ve built the courage yet. I don’t think I’ve ever built the courage for anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl.” She adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose, twining her fingers. “You can be the most fearless man on the planet. If you don’t understand yourself and simply ignore the facts, going back to her, you would be putting yourself, her, and your relationship, in danger. And you should give yourself credit. Seeking for therapy, to comprehend why you felt and acted the way you did, takes courage. To start a search within yourself, to let go of control… that is not an easy task, especially for you.” She furrows her brows, turning her expression into an even more neutral facade. “Do you expect to be fully aware of yourself, after only a few sessions of therapy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, why do you think you would be ready to call? There’s much more than just your feelings towards her, and her feelings towards you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What… do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a situation like the one you got caught, there are many more variables than you can count. And for a person as logical as you, perhaps it might not seem as obvious and easy to see them, because they’re not numbers. Your mind doesn’t want to let you know what you should do, but deep down, you already know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the feeling of a light bulb, flicking over your head, forces you to raise your eyes at her, your head hanging. “I… I think I understand.” With a haughty sigh, you roll your eyes, mumbling under your breath with mild annoyance. “Damn it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Waiters suppresses a smile, keeping an impartial gaze as she shakes her head lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Patience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>--- This chapter is entirely from Carl's perspective ---</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Coming!”</p><p>The voice from inside brings a certain knot to your stomach. You stare at your surroundings, the fall leaves hit the floor, and as you step on them, they produce a cracking noise, while you shelter yourself from the drizzle, under the roof on the entrance of the house.</p><p>The door opens, slowly, as he furrows his thick brows, avoiding the eye contact. “Carl?”</p><p>You sigh, breathing in, and exhaling sharply from your mouth, you respond. “Noah.”</p><p>“I can guarantee she’s not here, so I guess you can punch me and leave.” He shrugs with an unseen tone to his voice.</p><p>“Har, har. That’s funny.” You scowl, also averting his gaze. “I’m not here to punch you.”</p><p>“Huh. That seems untrue.” He nods to your fists, closed, parallel to the side of your body.</p><p>“Don’t flatter yourself, this isn’t for you. It’s just cold.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>You hiss with hesitation, folding your arms over your chest. For a moment, the silence of the street is deafening, until the librarian tries his best to keep his composure, stepping aside and letting you in. “Come on in.”</p><p>The yellowish tone of his furniture reminds you of that day. As he gestures to the couch, taking a seat on the opposite side, he leans over, the scar on the bridge of his nose less apparent, but still salient. He clears his throat, grabbing a steaming mug from the coffee table. “So. What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Well…” the scent of the green tea emanates from the mug as he takes it to his mouth, without drinking it. “Aren’t you gonna sip it?”</p><p>“This is not for my mouth. It’s my nose.”</p><p>You stifle a laugh, but contain yourself, nodding slowly. “Listen… I’m not gonna take too long. I’m here to apologize.”</p><p>He coughs, shaking both of his hands, almost splattering tea everywhere. “I’m sorry, did you just say you came here to apologize?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He’s taken aback, holding the mug in his grip, his head leaning forward. “Is this… some sort of prank? Is Bobby just waiting to jump on me? Was it his idea?”</p><p>“No.” you roll your eyes. “Despite what I’ve done felt… good. Really, really good. So good…”</p><p>“I get it. It felt good.” Noah’s gaze flickers to you as he bites his inner lip.</p><p>“Yes. Really good. But… I still owe you an apology. That’s not how I wanted things to go. I didn’t even think about what I was gonna say and acting on an impulse was wrong.” You lick your lips, with an exasperated sigh.</p><p>“So, you feel guilty, and need to get a good night of sleep?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I don’t understand, Carl. It’s been over a month. Why now?” he lowers his head, staring at the edge of the table between you.</p><p>“Why not? Better late than never.”</p><p>His face crumples with annoyance. “I’m not sure this applies here.”</p><p>“I’m sure it does. And I’m sure you feel as guilty as I do.”</p><p>He raises his eyes, without moving, seeing you’re not done with your speech, he closes his mouth, letting you proceed.</p><p>“Look, Noah, let’s be honest with each other. Things haven’t been the same with her, right? She’s probably a little distant…”</p><p>“A little?” he chuckles sadly. “Try “all the way to London” sort of distant.”</p><p>“W-what do you mean?”</p><p>He raises his brows, staring at you, quizzically. “She hasn’t spoken to me since that day… I thought… I thought you knew.”</p><p>“No…” you purse your lips, scratching the back of your neck. “To be fair, we haven’t seen each other since a couple days after that.”</p><p>“What?!” he narrows his eyes, suspiciously.</p><p>“It’s not of your concern! Look, I’m trying to apologize here.”</p><p>“Ok, sorry! But… what happened?”</p><p>“Does it matter?!”</p><p>“Yes!” he gets up from his seat, pacing the space in front of the bookshelf, near the dining table. “Look, none of our friends has talked to me, since that day… except for Chelsea, but only because she was here, after you. And she didn’t even talk, if I’m honest.”</p><p>“She hasn’t called me, so I wouldn’t know.”</p><p>“I’m sure not for the same reasons. She took me to the hospital, and I got patched up… when she dropped me here, she didn’t even speak to me.”</p><p>Shocked, you stare at him, lacing your fingers in front of your mouth. “She didn’t let you have it?”</p><p>“No… she filled in the forms in the waiting room and dropped me here. Not a single word. I figured she was aware of what happened, and then… I don’t know.”</p><p>“I see… I wasn’t the one to tell her, just so you know.”</p><p>Noah leans on the wall, folding his arms over his chest. “The boys haven’t talked to me either.”</p><p>You flick your brows. “Well, that’s a shame.”</p><p>“Sarcasm is not a good look on you, Carl.” He chuckles sadly, heading to the kitchen, leaving you by yourself. As you notice his book collection on the shelves, behind his chair, the colors all sorted by tone, he comes back, with a mug, handing it to you. “Here.”</p><p>“No, thanks. I had my poison this morning.”</p><p>“Wow… two in a roll. You’re getting good at it. Any lessons from Lucas?” he takes a seat, grabbing his, inhaling the vapor.</p><p>“Gary. More specifically, “Bobby’s roommate” Gary.”</p><p>“Try living with them.”</p><p>“I’m good.” You place the beverage on the coffee table, clearing your throat. “Listen. As I was saying. I’m not gonna beat around the bush, so… I’m here to apologize. As much as I wanted to leave it behind me, and never coming back… I still…” you trail off, rubbing your eyes. “I am sorry. I’m not the sort of bloke to just explode and punch someone.”</p><p>“And break their nose.”</p><p>You gesture to him. “And break their nose.”</p><p>“To be perfectly candid…” Noah’s eyes fall on his shoes as he speaks with a low voice. “I am also sorry, I really am. I know I brought this on myself when I didn’t talk to her when I had to, and I made a mistake.”</p><p>Your voice comes out more exasperated than you expected. “Yes. You did. But a mistake that didn’t deserve a punch, I don’t think.”</p><p>He runs his hand on his hair, laying on the backrest. “She… not being my friend anymore is punishment enough, I reckon.”</p><p>“So… she hasn’t…”</p><p>He smiles, kindly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No… she hasn’t. Neither of them has. And I guess I deserve it.”</p><p>“Look, Noah… thing about this whole situation is that… people are gonna take sides.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know. I can’t, and don’t, blame them. I just thought she… eventually would see me. Big mistake…” He rolls his eyes, gesturing to the space between you. “And I know we weren’t exactly… close…”</p><p>“To put it mildly.”</p><p>“But I tried to stay away. I tried not thinking about her.” He has an urgent tone to his explanation. “I tried not to… not to think about her like that.”</p><p>“I’m gonna stop you there. I know all about it. She told me. Noah, the way I exploded that day was purely my own fault. It was my head going to dark places, and I shouldn’t have done it.” your hands keep playing with the rim of your shirt. “I should’ve trusted her… I should’ve believed her.”</p><p>“I did make a pass on her. Which… Carl. I regret that. A lot.”</p><p>“Yes. And it’s better not to reminisce on that. You made a mistake and you’re paying for it. She’s not close to you anymore, and I reckon there’s nothing worse that could happen to you.”</p><p>“You’re right.”</p><p>“But I’m here to apologize because what I did was wrong. And the way I acted was… I wasn’t myself that day. And I’m not here to make amends, or to try and be friendly. We both know we’re past that.”</p><p>He shrugs. “True.”</p><p>“So, I’m... I’m sorry for punching you.” Your brows furrow, shadowing your eyes. “And I’m sorry for that, and that only. Whatever happened before and after that, is out of my control, and I can’t say anything on the matter.”</p><p>Noah lets out a sharp breath, nodding. “Somehow, I think this apology is something you needed to do, Carl. You’re not really sorry for punching me, and that’s ok…”</p><p>You cut him short. “I am sorry. It did feel good, but I figured it was a lapse of judgement, and I shouldn’t let a mere jealous moment take my whole personality away. The lad that didn’t even say “hi” and assaulted you, is not me.” You shake your head, mournfully. “That’s not the guy she deserves. And if I want to be with her again, if I want to live with myself, in peace, I need to be better. I need to do better.”</p><p>His jaw relaxes as he raises his eyes to you. “I guess that’s that then.”</p><p>“I can honestly say that right now, I do care if you forgive me or not, Noah. I didn’t, until a couple of days ago, and that was bothering me. It hasn’t been exactly easy, but I figured I would come here, and say “sorry”, because that’s the right thing to do.” you stop, rubbing your temples. “I guess I understand your gazes, and your constant looking at her. That’s all you had left.”</p><p>“It was.”</p><p>“And you had a bad moment, so have I. We can agree none of us was in our best shape that day.”</p><p>“Are you talking about you and me?”</p><p>“And her. I mean… she did come here. Why do you think she did? You guys were friends, and she just…” you pause. “We had a fight about you, and she drove here right after.”</p><p>Noah’s expression changes with a tilt of his head. “I see.” It looks like realization dawns on him, as fast as you get up from the couch, heading to the door.</p><p>“That’s all I came here to say, really. There’s not much I can do except hoping you will forgive me.”</p><p>“Wait.” He raises a hand, following you to the door. “Carl, listen. I’m sorry too. I really am. Not just because she hasn’t been my friend ever since. Even though we’re not close friends or anything of the sort, I still reckon you’re a good guy.” He stares at his shoes. “And you’re good to her… you guys had a bumpy start, but you got there, eventually. And the fact that I thought I would ever have a chance is beyond me, at this point... I just… don’t understand what came on to me that day.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I… I still haven’t sorted out why I made that move. I still don’t understand why I thought it was a good idea to risk my friendship with her over that.”</p><p>At that moment, near his entrance, you and Noah exchange a look. A look that you immediately recognize as a sorrowful one. One that you remember having on your face for the first week of your break.</p><p>Every time you reminisced on your fight, you wished to make a different scenario out of it. Something that you could control the outcome, knowing what you knew, after you left Noah’s house.</p><p>Despite resisting the urge to call her, or visit, you still imagined different endings for that specific day. And the one that pained you the most was the image of her, in your kitchen, tossing a pizza dough in the air, with a smug smile as she would catch it, flawlessly.</p><p>Every other result that you could calculate didn’t end nearly close to a happy one. Not as happy as you, probably getting the dough stuck on your ceiling, and her frantic laugh as she would lean over the counter, unable to stop her cackling.</p><p>Right there, facing him, as you apologize, as you feel the sorrow you haven’t allowed yourself to feel, you nod.</p><p>As if in a code, Noah nods back, without a single word. His head hangs low as you reach for the knob, stepping outside, closing the door behind you, without a last glance.</p><p>Even if the drizzle is insistent, through the chalky clouds, it’s possible to see a small beam of sunlight, shining directly at the entrance of his house.</p><p>Your chest feels lighter, as your shoulders. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel scary, or heavy, or solemn.</p><p>It feels like timing is finally on your side.</p><p>With a smile on your lips, and resolution in your mind, you click the alarm of your car, hopping in, ready to drive back to London, the known melody of a song resonating in your head.</p><p>--</p><p>The cold Autumn drift slowly opens the door of your office. You’re finishing up your task, hearing Gary’s impatient pacing on your living room as you pick up your phone from your pocket.</p><p>“Jeez! Calm down, Rennell!” you walk down the hallway, looking at your freshly new screen, a picture of you and her, back in Quarantine, smeared with flour. You join your friend, phone in hand. “I’m here! Let’s go!”</p><p>“Alright! Took you long enough! The movie is about to start!”</p><p>You raise a hand with a mocking expression. “That’s an exaggeration! We have over forty minutes!” As you step outside, the breeze takes the strands of your hair, slightly longer, from place. You and your friend hop in the ride, after locking your front door.</p><p>“They’re gonna meet us there…” Gary locks his phone screen, grinning as he looks at you, the driver pulling up from the curb. His eyes roam on your face. “Your tan still looks good!”</p><p>“What, you didn’t notice before?” the lights of the city illuminate your faces, Gary looking at you with a curious gaze.</p><p>“Well… I don’t know. How long is a tan supposed to last?”</p><p>“Pff, I have no idea, Gare!” you laugh. “But let’s talk about something else…” you hesitate, smiling. “How’s Veronica?”</p><p>“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” he folds his arms, hiding his hands. “You actually think I wouldn’t find out, huh?”</p><p>You smile, shrugging. “Are you mad?”</p><p>For a moment, he narrows his eyes but his grimace breaks into a friendly smile as he hugs you. “Of course not! It was about time! Finally!”</p><p>“Y-yeah… I guess…”</p><p>“So… did you… call anyone else before Veronica?”</p><p>You lick your lips, watching the buildings pass by the window. “I… I tried visiting her last night, but… she didn’t pick up the intercom. So, I called Roni.”</p><p>“What?!” your friend is shocked, mumbling under his breath. “She didn’t pick up? That’s some bullshit…”</p><p>You squint, pensively, relaxing on your seat. “I… don’t… think she was home.”</p><p>“Oh… that’s better, I guess. What makes you say that?”</p><p>“I don’t think she would ignore her doorbell… she couldn’t know it was me.”</p><p>“Well, I guess that makes sense.”</p><p>You fiddle with your watch, playing with the fastening of the bracelet. “Anyway, I decided I’m gonna call her tomorrow.”</p><p>Gary grins, slowly raising his massive palm. “Hey! Up top!” he waits for you to strike it with your own, and as you do, lazily, he smiles. “That’s good, right?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I mean, I was ready yesterday, then she wasn’t home, and it got me thinking… you know… if I’m jumping the gun there. I did that before, I don’t wanna be wrong again.”</p><p>“I don’t think you are!” he drapes an arm on your shoulder, shaking you. “Come on, mate! You’re getting better every day! You’re taking risks, doing stuff you never did before! Give yourself more credit!”</p><p> “That’s true… you know… the moment I pressed her doorbell, and she didn’t pick up…” you smile to yourself. “I didn’t panic. If it was a few months ago, I would’ve freaked out and called her a thousand times, but now… I don’t know...”</p><p>Gary tips his head, casting his eyes on you. “You’re... calmer. Anyone can see that.”</p><p>“Yeah? You think so?”</p><p>Your friend chuckles, heartily, shaking you even more. “Of course! The fact that you called Veronica shows you’re ready!”</p><p>“Yeah… I couldn’t call… you know…”</p><p>“I understand, bruv!” he slaps your arm with unmeasured strength. “Roni is… nice.” His blue eyes glint.</p><p>“Yeah. She’s fantastic… she made me forget about it, for a while. She’s that good.” you see the look on his face as the car pulls up in front of the theater, the blinking letters announcing the launchings of the week. Gary looks at her, from a distance, as she talks to Bobby, a steaming beverage in hands.</p><p>“Yeah… but hey, we can talk about that later. You’re the one we should focus on right now!”</p><p>“Nah! Not tonight. No relationship talk! I just wanna watch a movie with my friends, and get it ruined by strangers!” you laugh, opening the car door, Gary in tow.</p><p>“Spock!!” Bobby rushes to the car, embracing you in a bear hug, ruffling your hair. As you turn, Gary is snogging his girlfriend, taking you and the pastry chef aback. He gestures to the couple, rolling his eyes. “It’s been like this all week long, I swear to god…” he snaps his fingers, violently. “OI! GARY! VERONICA!”</p><p>“Oops…” she pulls away first, turning to you, immediately throwing her arms around your neck. “Sorry! Hi! Nice to see you again!”</p><p>“You too.” You hug her, animatedly, patting her back. As you two pull away, you turn to the boys as they whip their phones from their pockets, the light shining on their faces. “Have you guys got your tickets?”</p><p>“Not yet… I’m sending you the code. Can you grab it?”</p><p>“Sure!”</p><p>“Yeah, same… and hurry! We need to get the food!” Gary nods to the line inside, his stomach growling.</p><p>“How is this possible?” Bobby scowls, throwing his arms. “We had dinner less than two hours ago.”</p><p>“Mate, have you seen my size? Do you think it’s easy to maintain all this?” he flexes under his thick plaid coat, winking at Veronica as he pulls her closer.</p><p>“God, please stop!” the pastry chef rolls his eyes again, with more intensity, slowly turning his back on his roommate, to face you. “See the kinda shit I have to put up with? I swear…”</p><p>“Erm… I’m gonna get the tickets. Roni, keep an eye on them, will you?”</p><p>“Sure thing!” she shrugs, smiling smugly.</p><p>“I’ll be right back.” You turn on your heel, following the path to the self-check by the entrance, while swiping on the screen of your phone, to get the tickets’ codes. “3, 2, 3, 6…” you mumble the numbers as you approach the machine. “8, 5, 6, 2, 2…” you type the first one, getting the respective receipt. “9, 8, 5, 3…” as you finish the transaction, you walk back to the spot where your friends wait, closing the app on your phone, glancing once more at its wallpaper, smiling to yourself.</p><p>“Oh…”</p><p>Your shoulder bumps hard into someone’s, slightly shorter than you, almost dropping the device in your hands. “Oops! Sorry!” you adjust your coat, raising your eyes, slowly, the person mirroring your movements. As you look up, the coat hugging her waist, and the collarbone covered with a thick wool top, you’re taken aback as you see their face. “Oh… h-hi…”</p><p>She smiles, surprised, but just as pleased. “Carl! H-hi…”</p><p>Your heart thumps, as it always does, her smile luring one from you, forcing you to repeat your words, since your brain can’t quite function. “H-hi…” in your head, a thousand words rush into sentences, ready to go, but you shake it off, tipping your head to the side. You need to absorb the details of her face, her nose is slightly red on the tip and after a deep, paused breath, you continue to look at her, speechless. “Y-you look… you look great!” you gesture to her with the tickets.</p><p>“I-I… thank you! You… you do too…”</p><p>You scratch your stubble, grinning. “Thanks…. I’ve… wow…” Suddenly the words disappear, and instead, the joy of seeing her takes you completely, making you shift on your spot, trying to think of words and how they usually flow from your mouth.</p><p>“Yeah…” she looks at her shoes, her cheeks reddening, a coy smile growing on her lips.</p><p>You take a final deep breath, so happy you can’t contain yourself. As you open your mouth to speak, Veronica comes from behind her, looking at you quizzically.</p><p>“Did you get it? The others are waiting!” she stands beside you, before noticing your girlfriend standing there as well. She quickly hides her shocked face, doing her best to act natural.</p><p>“Erm…” you rush to introduce your new friend, but your girlfriend promptly extends her hand to Veronica, a hint of concern in her eyes.</p><p>“Hi, I’m…”</p><p>“Oh, I know who you are!” Roni rolls her eyes with happiness, shaking hands with a firm grip, visibly excited.</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah!” your friend shoots you a grin, but you cut her short, chuckling.</p><p>“Roni… why don’t you go with the others and I’ll be right there.” You shoot her a pointed, excited look and she takes the hint, leaving you two alone, shooting you a wink as she leaves. “Sorry about that. Roni is… perky” you see her, walking towards the boys, raising two thumbs up as she mouths, “good luck”. Another chuckle escapes your lips, your anxiety to continue the conversation sending butterflies in your stomach. “So… where were we?”</p><p>“I…” she walks backwards, pointing a thumb behind her. “I-I was leaving. But…” you see her jaw clenched as she continues moving in the opposite direction. “It was… It was really… erm… nice seeing you.”</p><p>You furrow your brows, watching as she leaves, turning on her heel. Your hand moves, motioning to reach out, but you stop yourself. A sudden realization hits you, slowly making you calmer. “Maybe… she is not ready…” she disappears around the corner, and you stay in place, scratching your forehead, taking a deep breath. “Yeah… maybe… she’s not ready…”</p><p>--</p><p>“She did what?!” Gary slaps the wall behind him, after you tell him about your encounter, on the outside. “I can’t believe her! Who would do that?”</p><p>You raise your hands, trying to calm him down. “Maybe she’s not ready, Gare… it’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“What do you mean, it’s not a big deal?! The bird literally left even before talking to you!? That’s bullshit! I’ll kill her!” he stops himself as the three of you observe his frantic moves. “She’s like a sister to me, but I swear! That’s not cool!”</p><p>“It’s honestly fine…”</p><p>Deep down, it feels like you’re lying to yourself. Your heart slowly sinks, but the thought of forcing her to talk to you is unsettling. “I don’t want her to come to me before she feels comfortable, Gary. If she left, she had a reason. And I can’t do anything else, besides respecting that.”</p><p>“Did she panic?” Bobby nods at you, eyes narrowed in confusion.</p><p>“I… think so… she was smiling, then suddenly, she wasn’t. She just… left! Out of the blue.”</p><p>“I swear! I’m calling Chelsea!” Gary whips his phone from his coat, dialing Chelsea’s number, but you put a hand on his wrist.</p><p>“Gare, don’t… honestly.”</p><p>“B-but!”</p><p>“I’m fine.” You give him a reassuring squeeze before letting go of his hand, smiling as your lip quivers. “I’ll live… when she’s ready, she’ll find me.”</p><p>The boys exchange a look, and the pastry chef grabs your arm and elbow, guiding you to the door, alongside Veronica. “Let’s… get a car then. Leave him to calm down…” he wiggles his brows at his roommate, motioning several perches of lips and pouts, dragging you to the entrance. Gary shoots him a confused look, and he nods back, to his hand, holding the phone. He mouths, sharply. “Call her… call Chelsea.”</p><p>“Right…!” the crane operator slowly gathers his best, or not so much, acting chops. “Yeah! I’m… super… angry…! I need to… stay… alone…?” his eyes startle at Bobby.</p><p>“Yeah, we can see that! Come on Carl, let’s leave him alone!”</p><p>--</p><p>“Rennell, I can’t talk right now!  There’s an emergency!” Chelsea picks up the call, not even greeting the boy.</p><p>“You’re telling me!?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Gary sighs, watching you from afar, trying to keep his voice down. “Look, I’m at the theater right now, and Carl saw her before the movie… he’s… she didn’t even talk to him. What’s the matter with her?!” he throws his arms, almost slapping a couple of people walking towards him.</p><p>“What do you mean “What’s the matter with her?!” What’s the matter with him?! He’s already moving on even before breaking up!? I’ll kill that dweeb piece of sh…”</p><p>“Wait, what?!” Gary cuts her short, cupping his ear. “H-hold on, hold on… let me find a quieter spot.” He takes a few steps to reach the entrance of the theater, leaving you, Bobby and Veronica on the other side of the lobby. “Sorry, it’s quite noisy in there. What were you saying?”</p><p>“That dweeb piece of sh…”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I got that part!”</p><p>She muffles her voice by cupping the speaking portion of the phone. “I said… he’s already moving on without even breaking up! And that’s why I’m gonna kill him!” Chelsea’s voice becomes louder and even more irritated. “If you wait, I can drive there, and you can hold his funeral tomorrow!”</p><p>“Hold on… did you just say, “Carl is moving on”? Is that what you said?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>Gary’s eyes turn to look at the group, Bobby trying his best to keep you facing the street, a horrible, yet accurate, impression of a meditating Rocco, nodding to you, confirming you’re distracted. “No…”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>“Chelsea! Listen to me!” he pinches his fingers together, its tips whitening from the strength. “No! Carl is not seeing anyone!”</p><p>“Oh, come on! She saw him with a girl!”</p><p>“No…no! The girl that came with my Carl is my girl…”</p><p>“So, you better... wait, what?” Chelsea stops, taking a deep breath, speaking resolutely. “Explain yourself, Rennell.”</p><p>“I’m seeing this girl, Veronica… for a few weeks now. Bobby and I brought her to the movies, and we decided to bring Spock with us. We wanted to cheer him up, you know?”</p><p>“So… the girl is not with…” Gary hears Chelsea facepalming. “Oh, no… she’s heartbroken, thinking he moved on!”</p><p>“No! That’s… not… ok, put her on the phone, so he can talk to her. I’ll go get him.”</p><p>“No, no, no… wait…” it takes Chelsea a couple of moments to speak, now, in a conspicuously undertone to her voice. “How about we… make them see each other?”</p><p>A crease grows between his brows. “Wait, what?”</p><p>“I mean… if he wanted to talk to her, then I assume… he’s ready…?”</p><p>Gary speaks solely, picking up on her plan, mirroring her tone. “Yes…”</p><p>“Then, what better way to talk than doing it, face to face?”</p><p>“I’m listening…”</p><p>“Alright. I have an idea! You and Cupcake make sure to take him to that club, Fabric, and I’ll take care of her…”</p><p>“Ok… but what are we gonna do?”</p><p>“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” She snaps her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “You just have to make sure you keep an eye on your phone, I’ll be texting you the instructions, got it Garebear?”</p><p>He rolls his eyes, perching his lips, irritated. “I mean… I reckon those are really complicated. Repeat them to me, will you?”</p><p>“Listen to me, Gary, and listen to me, well! Don’t fuck this up, our friends will be going home together, tonight! Even if I carry them on my back, myself, got it?!”</p><p>He chuckles. “Yo… that determination would do wonders if you focused it on… Cupcake…” he laughs. “Hello? Hello? Hello…?” he checks the screen, to see the call ended, hissing with a sarcastic voice. “Chels, Chels… what am I gonna do with you?”</p><p>He comes strutting towards you, a light air to his walk as he checks his phone. You nod at him, hands in your pockets. “Are you calmer?”</p><p>“W-what?” he glances at his roommate, before answering, clearing his throat, putting on a brutal tone of voice. “N-not yet! Listen… I think a drink would help. Anyone fancy going somewhere?”</p><p>“A drink?” your eyes narrow.</p><p>“Yep…” his eyes quickly darted to Bobby. “A – drink – would – be – nice…”</p><p>“Are you having a stroke or something?”</p><p>“Bobby!” Gary looks pointedly at him, then at his phone and back, talking through his teeth. “I think a drink would be nice.”</p><p>“Right! A drink! Of course!”</p><p>You and Veronica exchange looks, folding your arms on your chests, you turn to speak with a concerned voice. “Are you guys okay? Do you need a moment?”</p><p>“No! I think it’s a great idea, roomie! A drink!” The pastry chef puts a finger on his lips, with a pensive look. “But w-where?”</p><p>Gary smirks, raising his brows suggestively. “Fabric...”</p><p>“Guys, I don’t know. A club? I was thinking maybe having a slow night. A movie, then dinner.”</p><p>“Oh, come on. Just a drink won’t hurt… besides, you don’t have to dance. We’re just gonna hang by the bar.” The crane operator drapes an arm on your shoulder, speaking with a glint in his eye. “Trust me, mate… it’s gonna be good…”</p><p>Your eyes roam from Veronica, to Bobby, then back to your friend. “Just a drink?”</p><p>“Yep! I reckon it will be fun…”</p><p>You sigh, defeated, noticing the excitement on your friends’ faces. “Fine… Fabric it is.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Fabric</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Expect the unexpected.<br/>This chapter is from your point of view.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come on! You gotta give it a chance!” Chelsea stays behind you, almost pushing you with her body weight, after paying an absurd amount to get in the club. You resist her enthusiasm, still feeling mildly uncomfortable with the heels and dress.</p><p>“Chels… seriously…”</p><p>“Girl, we’re already here! The bar awaits! We have the night to celebr…” she stops her phrase abruptly, clearing her throat. “I mean, to forget about that dweeb… piece of…”</p><p>“Right, right! That dweeb…”</p><p>She sighs deeply, folding her arms for a moment. “You get my point.”</p><p>“Yeah…” you eye her suspiciously. “I just don’t understand why the sudden change of heart. One minute we’re “staying home and drinking until we pass out” and on the other is “we’re doing that, but in unbelievably uncomfortable shoes and outfits”!”</p><p>Chelsea snorts, adjusting the rim of your dress on your thigh. “You look amazing, by the way!”</p><p>“Chels… I just don’t feel like dancing right now. Honestly. I feel like burying my face in some awful tv show and try to forget this Friday ever existed.”</p><p>“But… ok. I get that.” She leans against the wall, to give passage to newcomers of the club. Her gaze holds yours. “But I think this is gonna be fun. If you let go of a few feelings.”</p><p>“Like the anger?” you roll your eyes.</p><p>“That… and… you know, the fear.”</p><p>“The fear?” you tip your head forward, confused.</p><p>“I mean. You just saw the guy you love with someone else and you didn’t let him have it, you didn’t talk about it, you didn’t fight. That’s… I see it’s a good thing, but at the same time, I keep wondering if you’re lying to yourself and only doing this because you’re afraid of fighting with him again... and ending up repelling him.”</p><p>You open your mouth and close it without a sound. For a moment, your mind wanders to when you were back at your apartment, talking about the new girl on Carl’s arm. “No, Chelsea. I didn’t think it was worth fighting, but it’s not because I’m afraid. It’s just…” the tip of your heel makes circular, random shapes on the floor as you stammer a little. “I just don’t think it’s worth fighting over that. He’s an adult, and he’s free to do whatever he wants. Even if…” a deep breath escapes you as you look up, trying to avoid a couple of tears. “Even if that means him, meeting someone else.”</p><p>“Please, stop!”</p><p>You cut her short with a gesture at your heart. “I’m serious! Sometimes you need to be fierce and have a lot of gut. And sometimes…?” your misty eyes become even hazier and you tip your head back. “… sometimes you have to pick your battles.”</p><p>Without a word, Chelsea involves you in her arms, running her hand on your hair in a reassuring manner. “It’s ok…”</p><p>“It’s not ok.” You pull away, sniffing. “But there’s nothing I can do now. I don’t even know if they’re seeing each other for a long time, you know? I have no idea of how long that has been going on and I just… and I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I need to be patient with him. You know?”</p><p>Chelsea cringes deeply. “Patient with him?”</p><p>You nod, biting your lip from letting more tears stream down. “Yes… I don’t want Carl to be with me because he feels obligated. Am I angry? Absolutely. But that’s all I can do for now. Be angry. I’m not gonna call him out on something that I agreed on.”</p><p>“You agreed on a “break”!”</p><p>“Whatever we do in a break, stay in a break, Chels. You know that, I know that.”</p><p>“I said it before, I’ll say it again. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”</p><p>“That’s up for the person to decide. And it’s out of my control. And I’ll be honest with you. I’m so sick of being in control of everything, all the time. I don’t want that for me.” You can’t help tears rolling on your cheek. “I don’t want that to be my relationship. Me, constantly wanting to change him, wanting him to act in a certain way. I’m not that person, and I don’t wanna become that sort. Chels... I just wanna be happy.”</p><p>Chelsea’s lips twist as she frowns, bringing you closer into another embrace. She stands on the tips of her heels to give the top of your head a kiss. “I’m really proud of you.” Her voice is muffled as she gives your head another kiss. “I really am.”</p><p>“Y-you’re… proud of me?” you pull away, wiping under your eyes, trying to prevent your mascara from running. “W-why?”</p><p>“Because you, acting this way… it’s just…” she grabs both of your shoulders, staring directly in your eyes. “You’re growing up, bra. I don’t know if what you’re doing right now is right or wrong, but it feels good… right? Deep down.”</p><p>You nod rapidly. “Yeah… I don’t think being upset about it is gonna bring anything good. I’m just weirded out that he didn’t talk to me about it. But… it’s out of my control.” You shrug, grabbing a tissue from your purse. “There’s nothing I can do.”</p><p>Chelsea opens her mouth, tilting her head to the side with resolution, but stops herself. “Look. We can go in, and have a couple of drinks, then go home to…”</p><p>“Fuck that! I might not control what happens in my love life, but I can definitely control what goes in my mouth!”</p><p>Your best friend giggles, shaking her head. “I thought we were having drinks, but hey, if you want the dancers’ phone numbers, I guess I can’t stop you!” she shrugs, exaggeratedly</p><p>“Shut up!” you push her, playfully. “Who even calls people anymore? It’s either the club’s bathroom or…”</p><p>Her chin drops as you recompose yourself, her palm raising as she laughs. “I beg you not to finish that sentence.” She adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder, with a sweet look. “I meant it, though. I’m really proud of you for thinking like this.”</p><p>“Well, it’s hard, but I guess there’s nothing I can do.” You turn on your heel to walk in the club.</p><p>“Wait… what are you gonna say when he finds you?”</p><p>You turn your head, hooking your arm on hers. “Well… then I’ll let him have it.”</p><p>“That’s my girl!”</p><p>As you walk the path towards the bar, you notice, for the third time tonight, Chelsea responding to a text.</p><p>“Now it’s your turn to answer. May I ask you who have you been texting all night? Cos you haven’t dropped that phone in your purse once.”</p><p>“Whaaaa… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she throws a dismissive hand, doing her best to disguise her excitement.</p><p>“Right, right… so no chance of… I don’t know…” you lean closer to speak in a smug voice. “Cupcake be the receiver of your texts?”</p><p>“Please! Cupcake and I are just friends!” she raises a hand, catching the bartender’s attention. “Hi, can we get… fifty shots of tequila?”</p><p>The bartender stares at her, quizzically, and you join her, with a smile. “She’s just kidding… it’s a hundred.”</p><p>“Erm…” his brows crease as he stares at the both of you, a curious look on his eyes, but his hands already reaching for the tequila bottle.</p><p>“Yes…” you smirk, nodding at the boy. “But we’ll be starting with… say… three shots each?”</p><p>Chelsea smirks back, confirming the order, then turns to stare at a specific spot on the corner of the club, cocking her head.</p><p> “Are you looking for someone?” You nudge her, your gaze searching for the specific angle she’s been staring at, from time to time.</p><p>“Wh-what?! Who would I be looking for?”</p><p>“I don’t know… you’re the one who’s searching… and it’s quite hazy here!” The music, loud, intoxicates your ears, and along with the smoke and the lightspots, you find it difficult to see anything properly. Between the colorful rays coming from the ceiling, and the dancefloor, packed, you question yourself, and Chelsea’s judgement, on why you’re even there. “Chels… can we find a quieter place?”</p><p>“No!” her perky voice immediately lures wide eyes from you. “I mean… I like it here. I like the bar.”</p><p>“But it’s so packed… and honestly… these people are looking like they’re trippin’ balls already.”</p><p>“Girl…” she trails off, almost like she wasn’t paying attention to a single word you just said, scrolling through her phone, the colors of her screen illuminating her highlighter.</p><p>“Chelsea!”</p><p>“Y-yeah?” she raises her eyes, and you see her pink nail covering a message from Gary.</p><p>“What are you doing, texting Gary…?”</p><p>“G-Gary? I’m not texting him!” she quickly puts her phone in her top, adjusting the strap on her chest. “You’re seeing things, girl!”</p><p>“Ok…” your eyes narrow with suspicion, but before you can say anything, the bartender brings a tray with six shots of tequila, as your friend hands him her credit card, to swipe it on the machine. Before she turns to you, you already hold two shots in your fingers, as well as the lime and the saltshaker. “Cheers!”</p><p>You down the sharp drink, frowning with the taste, immediately licking the salt and the fruit, growling and shaking your head. “Oof! Nasty! Another one!”</p><p>“Ok…” she smiles, impressed with your skills, but her eyes look startled as she glances at the corner of the club. “Girl, let’s kill these and hit the dance floor!”</p><p>“Yeah!!”</p><p>Whatever feeling of estrangement or misplacing you were feeling suddenly fade, along with the shots. If you’re gonna stay in the noisiest club, most uncomfortable shoes and dress possible, at least, you’re gonna try to have fun.</p><p>No point in avoiding it, especially with Chelsea by your side.</p><p>You down the rest of the shots in a row, now grabbing her hand to follow the stairs, sewing your way into the crowd. “This is hella packed!”</p><p>“I know right?!” Chelsea shimmies, laughing a bit as her head still cocks in every direction, but stopping at one specific spot. “So… how about…”</p><p>Before she can finish her sentence, you follow the direction of her eyes, a pack of heads bobbing to the song, on the opposite side of the floor. You squint, only to see a blonde head of hair, another one with short dreadlocks, and a third, brunette, shiny head of black hair. “Are you joking?” you move to the rhythm, not really focusing on your dance moves, and without noticing, you slowly turn your body to stare at the group, just a few feet from you. “You have got to be kidding me!”</p><p>“What is it?” she notices your gaze on the boys, and as Veronica reaches them, she grabs Carl’s hands, leading him to the dancefloor, not far from their spot.</p><p>You stare at the girl as she guides his hands up and down, trying to make him perk up to the melody of the song. He smiles, weakly, rolling his eyes, tossing his head back, resisting the dance moves. Her curls whip as she laughs at Carl, who, slowly, bobs timidly, trying to get in the spirit.</p><p>“I…” you open your mouth to speak, but as you keep watching them, he’s more into it, trying to sway his body from side to side, the girl steering him with her fingers laced to his. You can hear his hearty laughter as he shakes his head, awkwardly. “I…” for a moment, you can’t take your eyes off them. More specifically, him.</p><p>He looks happy. Careless. His stubble and his hair, longer, look almost too good to go unnoticed. He takes his coat off, throwing it on Gary’s face, now moving his legs as well, trying his best to dance, but still, delivering quite the awkward choreography.</p><p>Your body stops the attempt of moving to the song and you can’t help but let out a sad smile. He does look like he’s having fun, and even though you’re not the girl bringing that laugh to his lips, still, you’re happy for him.</p><p>The feeling of empathy is far bigger than the sadness of not being the one swaying around, tossing your hair back, to watch him mirror your moves.</p><p>“I need to…” you direct your voice to Chelsea, but she’s already joining the group, and you didn’t even notice she wasn’t by your side. Before you step out of the floor, your eyes roam back to him, only to see him, staring back.</p><p>Frozen in place but smiling. A feeling of startling.</p><p>You try to move, but it’s impossible. Your heartbeats are racing to the rhythm of the music, even though your ears are buzzing too loudly. Loudly enough to stop you from hearing the melody, properly.</p><p>Carl’s smile grows. His eyes stay on you, and just like he looked at you, at the theater, he seems pleased. Relieved, even. He takes a deep breath, looking at his shoes, coyly, but quickly raises his head, waving clumsily. You pick up a “hi” followed by your name as he mouths in the distance, a goofy smile taking place right after.</p><p>You shake your head as if you wanted to break the trance, heading to the bar, arms crossed as you’re swallowed by the crowd. You turn your head to see him, following your movements with shock, then turning back to the group. Before he can settle, with his hands in his pockets, Chelsea pushes him with a feisty attitude. She yells something, pointing at your direction, and he, resolutely, turns on his heel, to follow you.</p><p>He keeps his arms on the sides of his body, as he opens a trail among the dancers on the floor. Several shoulder bumps and “sorry” later, he hurries to catch you by the bar.</p><p>From a certain distance, his cologne is distinct from everyone else’s. The orange notes emanate from behind you, and as much as you want, you can’t seem to make yourself walk to the opposite direction.</p><p>It already took everything from you, to do that, earlier that night. You’re not able to do it, again.</p><p>From the corner of your eye, you can see his hands approaching the counter, and next thing you know, he’s right there, his forehead with small beads of sweat.</p><p>The time you spent apart, the break, the weeks that have gone by, were preparing you for this moment, and somehow, it feels surreal. Deep down, your heart, your stomach and your brain agree. The phrase “kiss him” keeps echoing in your head, and the image of several moments from the past keeps playing right in front of your eyes.</p><p>But the pain of seeing him with a different girl, and still come to you, even after dancing with her, shamelessly, hurts.</p><p>You wouldn’t expect it from Carl, to be with someone else, without even having a conversation with you first. The anger and disappointment you felt when you saw a new girl, linking arms with him, emerges from your chest, and you turn your head, avoiding his gaze.</p><p>“Hi…” he tilts his torso to look at you, slowly moving toward your seat. “H-how are you…?”</p><p>In your head, his question resonates and echoes, and before you can measure your words, your mouth speaks, without your consent. “How do you think I am, Carl?!” you turn to him with misty eyes, luring a shocked expression. “How the hell do you think I am?”</p><p>“I… um… I figured you’re…” he lets out a sharp breath, before looking at you, kindly. “… looking more fantastic than never, that’s for sure.”</p><p>You bite your lip, grabbing another shot and downing the drink, before speaking directly to him. “Oh, really?” Sarcasm pours out of you as you turn your focus on the group, staring at Chelsea as she laughs with Gary, Bobby and the new girl. “What the fuck…?” you squint in anger, downing a second shot.</p><p>“Wh-what… whoa, slow down…”</p><p>“Slow down? Did you just say “slow down”?” You let out a heavy sigh, letting go of any grip you had until that moment, your voice bolting like a thunder, filling the space between you. “You know what, Carl, I won’t!” you throw your hands with frustration, taken aback by his audacity, and your voice builds in volume, still muffled by the music. “How do you think I’m feeling? I’ll tell you how! Like a mug!”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>“You…” you raise your fists, burying your nails in your palms. “You’re unbelievable! How could you?!”</p><p>“Um...” his gaze keeps searching his sides, awkwardly. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” he shrugs, timidly, gesturing to you.</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“I mean, that’s three shots in a row… I figured you maybe wanted to alternate with a glass of water…” his eyes sparkle, innocently.</p><p>“That’s not what I’m talking about, Carl! I’m talking about her!” you gesture to the corner where your friends are standing and turn to point directly at the new girl.</p><p>“Um…” his brows furrow as his gaze follows your hand, his lips perching before he continues. “W-what about her?”</p><p>You open your mouth to speak, gesturing to the owner of the curly hair as she’s pulled in by Gary, into a passionate kiss, leaving Chelsea and Bobby uncomfortable. “What…?”</p><p>Carl takes a step, standing next to you, watching the couple with a sigh. “Um, you were gonna say something… about Roni?”</p><p>“She’s… is she snogging Gary?!”</p><p>He shrugs. “They’ve been slobbering all over each other, all week long, according to Bobby… but yeah…”</p><p>Your stammering is unbelievably confusing. “B-but… you were… and sh-she…” your eyes get lost in the vision of Gary and Veronica making out in the middle of the club, forcing your other two friends to leave them by themselves. “I just thought… I thought… b-but…”</p><p>Carl’s eyes roam to you from the other side, expectantly. He has a curious tone in his voice. “What…?”</p><p>“I…” you shake your head, confused, gesturing to her and him, alternately. “I just thought you and her…”</p><p>His eyes darted to the couple, immediately raising his hands. “What?! No! No! God, no!” he shakes his head rapidly, a loud laugh bolting its way from his chest. “God no!! No!”</p><p>“No…?”</p><p>“No!” he shakes his head, vigorously. “No! Never!” an involuntary laugh escapes him as he continues to cringe at the thought. “Roni is… she’s just a friend. Sort of like…” he nods to Chelsea, who now, pulls the pastry chef for a dance, a smirk on her pink lips. “And I needed that… that sort of friend…”</p><p>“Yeah…?”</p><p>Carl’s lips curl into a sad smile as he rubs his forehead, turning his focus on you. “I’m just not so good… at… and I just didn’t know… I mean, I think I was ready, but I don’t know if…”</p><p>Your eyes follow the motions of his lips as he stammers, desperately trying to find the right words. “Carl… wait.”</p><p>There’s a deep crease between your brows as you realize how mistaken you were. He holds your gaze, smiling, confused, but his grin never leaves his face.</p><p>There’s an urge inside of you, and nothing, not even your so strong determination, can stop you from what your hands do next.</p><p>Whipping your credit card from your purse, you pay for the drinks, without saying anything, immediately grabbing your phone. Leaning over, so only he can hear you, you speak close to his ear.</p><p>“Carl… what do you say we get out of here?”</p><p>--</p><p>The crisp air pierces your faces like a thousand needles, reminding you from the night you went to his Office party. It is cold enough to make you consider sheltering yourself in his coat. Such a strong feeling that lures a smile from you, and as you look at him, you see he’s having the same thought.</p><p>The two of you wait in front of the building, awkwardly looking at each other, from time to time, not being able to come up with a single topic to talk about. A break is a break, and even though you’ve been together for over a year, the air is still heavy, and neither of you are sure of what to do, or say, next.</p><p>You open and close your mouth, Carl mirroring your motions, laughing with a clumsy tone. “S-Sorry… you were gonna say something…”</p><p>“I was…” you cut yourself short with a chuckle. “I don’t know… not really…”</p><p>The awkwardness is cut by the sound of a roaring engine, pulling up in front of the club. Carl reaches for the handle, to open the door, waiting for you to get in. As you pass by him, he catches your perfume, with a loud sigh, and you, his.</p><p>He hops in, keeping a short distance on the seat, rubbing his palms to keep them warm. “It’s much better here…”</p><p>Your eyes fall on his hands, a grin on your lips as you see his recovered fingertips. “Not that you’re gonna heat up much, but it’s a start, I guess…”</p><p>“Hey…” he motions to object, but soon enough, he laughs. “They’re just like my feet, aren’t they?”</p><p>You hiss with a smile, nodding slowly. “Yep…”</p><p>The atmosphere falls into a lighter tone as you exchange a look. The driver turns the wheel, following instructions from the GPS voice, to your place.</p><p>“So… how’s work?” he turns to you, still trying his best to warm up, blowing into the shell shape of his hands.</p><p>“It’s fine… and yours?” without saying anything else, you follow your instinct of grabbing his hands, to warm them up, but as you touch them, an electrical current runs on your skin, bringing a light hiss to your lips. He looks at you as his hairs stand on end, battling with himself whether he should grab your hands or not.</p><p>“Yeah, fine, too…”</p><p>“Good… that’s good…” you let go of his wrists, taking a deep breath. “Sorry… force of habit… I know they're not gonna warm up any time soon...”</p><p>“No, it’s ok… yeah! Force of habit…” for a moment, his attention span seems to be lost as he looks, wistfully at your fingers, but he clears his throat. “Um… I thought about you… yesterday…”</p><p>“Yeah? What happened?”</p><p>“I… well, it’s more like… having a dream than “thinking”, really…” his cheeks redden as he furrows his brows, fiddling with his cold fingertips.</p><p>“Yeah, I think I know what you mean...” You smile to yourself.</p><p>“Yeah?” there’s a glint of hope in his eyes. “You mean… you and me…”</p><p>“Yeah…” you nod with a sigh. “A lot of them actually.” Your eyes go wide as you realize the words escaping your mouth.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Well…” you bite your bottom lip, eyes roaming on his stubble, then his longer hair. “I mean… can you blame me?”</p><p>He snorts, slapping his own forehead, visibly relaxing. “You’re telling me this?! Can you blame me?” for a split second, his eyes find yours, darker. An awkward laugh is shared between you, and as he opens his mouth to speak, to finish his thought, his voice gets lost in your ears as you remember the dream you had, back in the first week you were apart.</p><p>The vision of Carl, under the candlelight. How his tongue grazed on your skin, how he propped behind you, pulling your hair to kiss your neck. His grunts as he pushed your body back and forth, the number of times he whispered about missing you.</p><p>Those goosebumps only he can give you.</p><p>“… and I don’t know how, but I saw it…”</p><p>You find yourself staring at him, not listening to a single word, trying to keep yourself together, but before you can, your eyes fall on his lips. On his shy smile.</p><p>“Carl, kiss me.”</p><p>“So, I… wh-what?” he stops, abruptly.</p><p>“Kiss me…”</p><p>Your attempts of coming up with good, reasonable motives for him to kiss you are completely in vain. There’s no solid reason for you to kiss right now, but there’s also plenty of them.</p><p>It feels like there’s a magnetic pulse between your mouths and his lips find yours, quickly as you take a breath in. He involves you in his arms, pulling away, only, to ask you. “Is this ok?”</p><p>You nod rapidly, your hands hiking his back, letting his embrace become deeper. His tongue touches yours, a lingering taste of lime and soda as he kisses you, languidly, his hands on the sides of your face.</p><p>A tingle runs on your spine, leading you to toss your hair to the side, letting his lips skim the spot above your collarbone. He grunts, in a low volume, nipping below your ear, leaving a trail of bites as his lips move to your chest.</p><p>“I missed you…”</p><p>You smile to yourself, hearing the words, the tone, the deep breathing, same as from your dream, but so comforting.</p><p>“I missed you too…”</p><p>You take his mouth with yours, licking his bottom lip, luring a groan as he can’t take it, digging his fingers on the sides of your body. “I missed you so much…” Carl’s gaze flickers to yours, and his smile reaches his eyes. “You have no idea…”</p><p>You grab his hand, sliding in your inner thighs, to find your underwear. “I think I do…”</p><p>His fingers dance over the fabric, with a light touch, feeling your sensitive skin twitching. “Oh…” he hisses with anticipation, taking your face with his free hand, smiling through another kiss.</p><p>You run a hand on his shoulder, and he jolts, quickly recomposing. “Are you ok, Carl?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah… I’m…” he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, grinning. “I’m fantastic…”</p><p>The kiss restarts, and before you notice, the car stops abruptly, the driver announcing you reached your destiny. Carl adjusts the rim of your dress on your thighs, pulling it down, before you hop off the car.</p><p>Never, in your life, was so hard to find the keys to your building’s entrance. Your heart pulsates with possibility, and every step you take, it’s even harder not to turn around and take him, right there. You rush to the elevator, doing your best to keep your composure as people walk by in the lobby, just waiting for the doors to slide shut.</p><p>As they do, you turn to each other, his eyes hungrier than before. Your lips find each other again, but he pushes you to the wall, his hand hiking the side of your hip, finding your underwear. His mouth skims over your chest, and his hand stays on your throat as he licks a path to your ear, his voice, even lower. “I want you.”</p><p>“I want you, too…”</p><p>The ding of the elevator alarms you to head to your flat, Carl picking you up in his arms, staggering to the next wall, biting your bottom lip. You can feel his firmness as he runs his thumb on your lip, his eyes dark with desire.</p><p>“We’re really close, Carl…”</p><p>“Yeah…” his lips parted under yours roam on your chin, biting its way to your mouth. He takes you to your entrance, letting you down, turning you to the door. His hands scoop your hair from the back of your neck, his mouth staying on your skin, biting your shoulder.</p><p>As you slam the door open, he closes it behind him, following your lead as you slide the dress off your body, taking off his coat. He smiles, breathless, tossing his hair to the side. His fingers dig your waist, and he pushes you on the console table, knocking over a lamp. “Sorry…” the shattering noise brings a smile to both of your lips.</p><p>“Who cares?” you grip his sides, hooking a leg around his waist, bringing him closer. His knee touches below your waistline, pressing lightly, sparks flying on your skin. Your moans lure a deep grunt from him as he kisses you, hands fumbling your breasts under your bra, his tongue finding yours again.</p><p>You run a hand on his pants, trying to unbuckle his belt. He laughs with tenderness, gripping the buckle, staring at you. “Let me…” he holds your gaze, easily removing his belt, tossing it to the side. You hurry to unzip his bottoms, pressing yourself against him. He rolls his eyes with a grunt, grabbing the sides of your head to deepen a kiss, as he toys with the straps of your bra. It falls on your shoulder and his pants, on the floor. His mouth runs from your neck to your breasts.</p><p>Carl roams the tip of his tongue on your nipple, taking it in his mouth, kissing your chest deeply as he continues to move back and forth, your waistlines pressed together.</p><p>You feel goosebumps running on your arms with the touch of his tongue, his other hand pulling your underwear so he can touch your wet skin.</p><p>You grab his jaw, bringing his focus to your face. His smile reaches his eyes, and with a sigh, he rests his forehead on yours, ceasing the motions of his hips.</p><p>“Carl… are you ok?”</p><p>He licks his lips, anxiously, catching his breath. “Yeah… I am. I’m… I’m ok…”</p><p>You smile, coyly, searching his eyes. “You don’t seem ok…”</p><p>His hands graze your temples as he chuckles. “I’m sorry… I just… I just realized we’re here, and I thought…”</p><p>Your gaze stays on him, expectant. “You thought…?”</p><p>“Maybe we should take a breath. You know… go slow…”</p><p>You toss your hair back, feeling the heartbeats on your fingertips, slowing down. “Oh...” With a sharp exhale from your mouth, you nod along with him, a bit of the awkwardness coming back to cut you short. “… is it… is it me? You’re not into… ?”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>You continue, apprehensive. “I mean… it’s ok. You can tell me… is it me?”</p><p>“Are you insane, woman?!” his eyes roam on your body and he hisses, biting his lip almost too strongly. “Trust me! I would love to… god, I would love to!” he lets out a sharp breath.</p><p>“Yeah…?”</p><p>“Are you joking? God, yes! But…” he hesitates, grazing his thumb on your cheek. “We haven’t seen each other in over a month… and it feels a bit hasty, you know what I mean?”</p><p>A sense of relief invades your heart, luring a grin as you nod. “Yeah... I guess I do… even though it does… feel great.” You smirk, adjusting your bra back, his fingertips bringing the strap up to your shoulders. “But yeah, I know what you mean. It does feel… rushed.”</p><p>“I just…” he adjusts a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “I want us to talk before we move on to… I don’t know. Is that crazy? Cos I’m looking at you, like this, and I feel crazy!”</p><p>“No! Of course not!” you laugh at ease, cupping his chin. “I agree… we were…” you lick your lips with a heavy breath, looking at the path from the door, the lamp on the floor. “We were definitely… hasty…”</p><p>You share a laugh, and he tips his head, bringing your knuckles to his lips, kissing them with a kindness in his eyes. “So… what do you say we talk over… tea?”</p><p>You bite your lip, not being able to hold back a large smile. “Yes. Tea.”</p><p>--</p><p>Carl brings the kettle to your dining table as you come back from your bedroom, in more comfortable clothes. “Sorry... those heels were killing me.”</p><p>His gaze roams on your simple sweatpants and top combo, sighing. “You look gorgeous, as usual.”</p><p>“Aham… sure.”</p><p>“I mean it.” he takes your hand, bringing you closer to the seats. “You look amazing, no matter what you do.”</p><p>“Well, I should say the same about you. What is this tanned look?” you’re taken aback by the golden tone on his skin, grazing a finger on his jawline. “And this beard… oof!”</p><p>“Stop…” he stares at his shoes but immediately raises his head with a bashful smile. “Not really. Please, continue.”</p><p>You laugh, taking a seat on one of the chairs, he follows your lead, sitting next to you. “You do look amazing, Carl. I’m getting the feeling you had a good month…?”</p><p>“I did… I did… and I take you too?” he gestures to you, a sparkle in his gaze. “You look great. Like I said…”</p><p>“Thanks. I do feel great. I mean…” you roll your eyes at yourself, remembering how bothered and upset you were, just a few hours ago. “I won’t lie. I was bothered with Veronica… until that moment, I was feeling really great.”</p><p>“I’m sorry for the mix up…” he rubs his forehead with a sorrowful expression. “She’s a good person. And she gave me some good advice. In fact, she was… kinda really excited when she saw you.”</p><p>“Really? She was?”</p><p>“Oh yeah! She was hopping up and down to meet you. Can’t blame her, I’ve…” he smiles with relief. “I’ve been talking about you a lot.”</p><p>“Y-you…” you smile. “You have…?”</p><p>“Did I say that out loud?”</p><p>You cover your mouth with a light laugh. “Yeah… you did… to be fair, I also talked about you a lot.”</p><p>“Really? To whom?”</p><p>“Oh, you know. The usual people. A girl I met in online chess… a couple of birds in Cornwall, a bloke that wanted my number.”</p><p>“A bloke that wanted the what now?”</p><p>“It’s a long story. But it does have a happy ending.” You graze a thumb on the back of his hand and realize the phrasing you just used. “I don’t mean that kind of… happy ending, I just meant...” Carl laughs heartily, cutting you short as he takes your hand in his. You laugh along, creasing your brows. “Anyway… tell me, because I’m dying to know… how was your month? What was the first thing you did when you left my place?”</p><p>Overwhelmed, he tilts his head, giving back the caress on his hand. “I wanted to come back… I struggled a lot to not knock on your door…”</p><p>“What?! No way!”</p><p>“I did! It was…” his smile gives space to a sad gaze. “I knew I had to, but it wasn’t easy…”</p><p>“I see… then what? Did you go to the office?”</p><p>“No. I actually drove home.”</p><p>“You did?” you grab the steaming mug from the table, sliding him the other. “You went home?”</p><p>“I did. I figured I needed a breather, you know. So, I just went home, and took a shower...”</p><p>You hum with delight, to lure a red tone on his cheeks. “Hm… you… shower…”</p><p>“Babe…” he smiles, but stops himself as he notices his phrasing, covering his mouth. For a moment, your eyes find each other as he motions regret, but a sentence follows through, bolting from his chest. “I’m sorry, but I missed calling you “babe”… I did!”</p><p>“Wow… really?” he nods in response, taking a short sip of his tea. “You flatter me, Carl.” You sip as well, slowly letting your hand find his, again. His thumb slides on the heel of your palm, and as you smile, he licks his lips.</p><p>“I gotta say. I didn’t think I was gonna make it. That first week was rough.” He scoffs. “Who am I kidding? Almost the entire time was rough as fuck.”</p><p>“Whoa, really?”</p><p>“Are you joking? I had to spend a month and a half without you.” His head hangs for a moment, before he continues. “I missed you so much. I don’t think you understand just how much I love you.”</p><p>“Huh…” you contemplate making a joke, but simply tip your head with a kind smile. “I think I know what you mean. And before you say anything about the wonderful things you probably did, can I just… apologize first?”</p><p>His brows cock with surprise. “You? Apologize? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He exhales. “If anything, I own you a huge apology.”</p><p>“No…” you shake your head, your voice weaker. “Carl… I’m always asking you to open yourself up to me. And I always wonder what you’re thinking, or why you act the way you do, and sometimes…” you trail off, sighing deeply. “I didn’t think about your feelings when you asked me about Noah.”</p><p>“Babe…”</p><p>“Please, listen to me, Carl...” He nods, brows raised with a pained expression. “I… was selfish. The only thing I thought about... was the fact that you were asking me about another guy. I didn’t take your feelings under consideration, and was a little over the top with my reaction.”</p><p>“That’s the thing! You weren’t! You were right!”</p><p>“But I mocked you! That was wrong of me! If anything, after the fight we had, I just wanted to…” you take a deep breath, trying your best to give the proper apology you planned to. “I just wanted to hurt you. And that’s not what you deserve. I really didn’t think at that time. Except for… how you were gonna react once you knew I drove to Romford. I completely lost sense of what was right and what was wrong, and I’m sorry. Carl, I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p>His eyes flicker as you finish speaking. “Babe. You only reacted because you had to. I accused you, even though I was…” he rubs his eyes as he breathes with difficulty. “I just want you to know, I always trusted in you. Deep down, I knew.” His tone is firm, and tremble free, nothing like a Carl that would discuss a relationship, midst stutters. “I saw what I did, and it was too late. When I realized why I accused you, we were already deep in this break… and I couldn’t call you, because I had so many unfinished businesses to resolve.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>He struggles with his next words, tipping his head back for a moment, as if he was trying to drain whatever thoughts were flooding his mind. “Ok… there’s something about my past, that I never told you. And it’s something that frankly, I don’t even know how I was capable of staying with you for so long.”</p><p>He waits for you to say your usual “excuse me?!”, but instead, you just nod, grazing your thumb on his palm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Ok... what is it?”</p><p>Surprised, with a light smile, he continues. “Well… back when I graduated from college, and was about to get the loan I needed, to start my company, I…” he hesitates, shutting his eyes. “I was engaged.”</p><p>“What?!” you raise your brows, clearly shocked, gesturing to you and him, in turns. “I’m sorry, I think I just heard you saying… did you just say “engaged”?”</p><p>He stutters for a moment, before nodding, for your astonishment. “I was.” He waits for an explosion, frowning with discomfort, but your head hangs as your eyes roam on your floor.</p><p>“Wow… I… don’t know what to say.”</p><p>“Yeah… look. I’m sorry I kept it from you. I really am.”</p><p>Your heart beats slightly faster and the butterflies fly freely in your stomach. “Why did you… keep it from me?”</p><p>Carl has foggy eyes and as you ask the dragged question, he lets go of your hands, slowly getting up from his seat, hands in his pockets. “I was embarrassed.”</p><p>“Embarrassed? Why would… why would you be embarrassed by it?”</p><p>“Because… Ok. I should tell you everything from the start.”</p><p>“Um… should I put more water in the kettle?”</p><p>“Or grab the scotch.” He perches his lips, shrugging with a slight grin. “Whatever you prefer.”</p><p>“Ha… funny as always.”</p><p>He squints. “You said I’m not funny…”</p><p>“And that was a joke.” You get up, heading to the kitchen, Carl in tow. As you reach for the sink, you open the hanging cabinet, grabbing a caramel bottle by its neck. “So. Tell me. Who was she?”</p><p>He places two tumblers on the kitchen island, taking a seat next to you.</p><p>“Her name is… Nicole.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Nicole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carl is finally opening up about his past.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Carl waits, apprehensive, as you take a seat in front of him, holding the glass bottle, ready to pour the drinks. The night air has been stable so far, despite the coldness, and the dark sky allows the stars to shine brighter, through the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the scotch can touch the rim of the bottle, a thunderous din startle you both. Carl, bothered, puts a protective hand on your shoulder, before the wind picks up in speed, making the curtains on your kitchen window flutter with the sudden drift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A drizzle invades the room, followed by gusts of the wind, gaining strength by the second. He hurries to the window, to slide both glass sheets shut, the light rain hitting his face and chest of his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn!” he manages to latch the lock, turning to you as he shakes like a puppy, sending droplets everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a good look on you.” You smile, grabbing a towel from the pile of clean laundry, on your washing machine. “Here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks... It’s so cold!” he shivers, drying his face as he takes a seat next to you, now patting the towel on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on…” You head to your bedroom, looking at your duvet where his sweatshirt is splayed on the mattress. Grabbing it with a grin, you go back to the kitchen island, handing it to him, before settling on the stool. “Put this on... much better than a wet shirt, I reckon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… is this you, giving it back, or me, stealing it?” he takes off his dark grey shirt, pulling the hoodie over his wet hair, shaking it again, this time, tossing it to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is “you’re borrowing it and giving me back as soon as your shirt is dry” kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. In that case, I’m stealing it back…”he smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes, but can’t help a smile as he stares back. "So… you were gonna tell me about your…” you chuckle. “Engagement… it feels surreal to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… it is surreal for me too, if that helps.” Before he can continue, he picks up the bottle of scotch, pouring two drinks. “So, her name is Nicole, like I said. And we met back in high school. She was this sort that would never harm a fly, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m familiar with the type.” You clink your glass with his, before sipping it. “So… how was your relationship with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was… comfortable.” His sigh is filled with low energy, and a sad smile flashes on his lips. “She was pretty much the only person who understood what I was going through... Because she was going through the same thing. The whole “nicknames - humiliated by our families – never shaking off the insecurities of being unpopular” thing. We had some tough times back in school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see… why was she going through the family stuff? Was it… the same as you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl nods, licking his lips after a second sip. “It was. She was too smart for her family, and they expected a lot from her, as in…” he hesitates for a moment, twirling the drink as he sighs. “… getting married and having a hundred kids. She wasn’t into the idea of having children, and that’s just… one of the many things we had in common.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. You told me that a while ago. You never felt the urge of having a child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never. It’s not in my family… as I grew older, I felt less and less inclined to it, until I realized it wasn’t in me. I never wanted to be a dad, and that’s just it.” he smiles sadly, again, before holding your gaze. “I’m thankful I found you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snort, causing the scotch to bubble inside your glass, before putting it down, and wiping your chin. “You shouldn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs heartily, tilting his head to the side. “Well, I am. And it’s not only on the fact that you don’t want them either. It’s just…” he covers his mouth and under his palm, a smile reaches his eyes. “You’re amazing. And I feel very fortunate to have found you.” You open your mouth to speak, but he shakes his head with a raised finger. “I don’t take criticism.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A carefree chuckle escapes you as you gesture to him, glass in hand. “Ok. Please, continue your story. Before I throw you on that wall…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his cheeks reddening, he takes another sip, a little more at ease. “So, eventually, we went to college. And Nicole and I… we wanted the same thing. She was always motivated to leave a legacy of some sort. And her love for technology inspired her to go down on the same path as me. We were together through a lot, babe…” He takes a deep breath, holding his tumbler with both hands. “Until we decided it was time to take the next step. So, we moved in together, at 21.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow… you guys were really young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were… but it felt like it was the next step, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stop your sip halfway, smirking at him with smugness. “Because it was the next step? How romantic…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s gaze falls on you, and he nods with embarrassment. “You heard that before, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I did!” your smirk grows as you bite your lip, your eyes narrowing beyond control. “I’m sensing a pattern here…” you tip your head to the side. “So, what happened next? After you guys moved in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. We stayed together. Finished college. Mind you… this was peak Uni time for us. I knew what I wanted, and I knew how to get it. So, I was constantly coding, trying to find the next “amazing thing” to take the market by storm and be able to open my company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. It was sleepless senior year for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… and that was sort of the plan since... ever. That was a dream I had, and I wanted to accomplish it. I knew there was gonna be a lot of work, but I didn’t care. I already spent countless hours studying in school, and that wouldn’t change in uni, or after it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the wind howls outside, Carl grabs the bottle, pouring you another shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually, we finished college, and I was already trying to find a bank that was crazy enough to fund me and give me a loan. I couldn’t get this funding anywhere else. So, I was working even harder, even more hours, and that’s when I thought it was a good idea to take the next step.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The engagement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep… and she sort of…” His brows furrow as he stares at his fingertips, a wistful tone to his eyes. “She said “yes”, and I gave her the ring, but… I don’t know.” A deep sigh finds its way out of his lips, almost as if he didn’t mean to sound so thoughtful, or pessimistic. “The entire time we were together, I always thought “that’s how a relationship looks like. This is it. right here.” And after a while, of my long hours, she kinda… gave up. It didn’t happen right away.” A deep crease grows over his eyes as he fiddles with the glass. “It took some months to make her less encouraged. But she was working less hours, every week. Then less hours every day, until…” he shrugs. “She gave in completely. One day, it was better to go out with her friends than spending valuable hours coding or programming with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing wrong with that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Absolutely not. But as time went by, I realized that our goals didn’t match anymore. I would stay studying and working for hours, and she wouldn’t even stay in the same room as me. It started with “I’m knackered, I’m gonna sleep” to “Natasha is gonna pick me up, and we’re gonna travel to Cornwall for the weekend”. She never invited me to any of those…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s eyes roam to the window, watching the movement of the curtains as they flow with the wind, coming from a crack on the side of the glass sheets. “… then again, I was working hard and couldn’t even consider going anywhere. I had too many deadlines and it was really tricky to keep up with me.” his lips curl into a sad smile. “Not that she was interested in keeping up with me, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You graze the heel of his palm while shooting him a sympathetic look. “Did you guys ever get back on track?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, biting his inner lip. “No. In fact, when she got back from one of those trips, she came to my “office”, which it was the smallest corner of our living room, with plenty of code sheets all over the floor…” he holds back the insisting tears welling up in his eyes, “… and said she needed to have a serious conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yikes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. “Yikes” doesn’t even begin to describe what was about to happen.” Carl takes a gulp from his scotch, examining the empty glass against the light of your kitchen fixture. He takes a deep breath, letting it out with sharpness. “She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t feeling right in our relationship, and she said, and I quote: “I’m just not sure if a life with you is what I want for myself right now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re lost for words. For many reasons, among “why would anyone deny themselves the privilege of being with him?”, your mind starts sending numerous words to your mouth. So many, you cannot keep up with it, giving several attempts of speaking, but failing every time. Eventually, you hiss as your face crumples into a cringing expression. “That’s terrible!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the terrible part…” he chuckles sadly. “She continued to explain why we would never work out as a couple, and finished it by saying she changed her mind...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, clearly! She was breaking up with you, so it was obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl focuses on you as he places the glass on the table. “No… not about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not following…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She changed her mind… about kids...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” you hiss again. “That’s… ok… that’s unexpected, but… I guess it can happen to some people...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still not the terrible part…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” You cover your mouth, your voice muffled as you speak next, raising your free hand. “U’m gunno sty quiet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans forward with a confused frown. “What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You uncover your mouth, your cheeks blushing as you smile sweetly. “I’m gonna stay quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… oh!” Carl facepalms. “Right. Erm, anyway... the terrible part is not that she changed her mind about having kids, but…” he stammers before taking a long, deep breath, biting his lip, clenching his jaw. Even on serious fights, during the most perfect storms you had with Carl, he didn’t look remotely irritated as he was when taking that final gulp and sighing. “She was already pregnant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You spurt your scotch, again, feeling your nostrils burning with the alcohol. “W-what?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, holding his fingers against his lids, the whitening on its tips becoming more intense as he grunts, defeated. As a deep sigh escapes him, he runs his hand on his hair, right after, leaning forward, to bury his face on the counter. “Yes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… w-wait… did you say what I think you just said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” his cheek stays pressed on the surface as he shuts his eyes. It looks like an attempt of erasing Nicole’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god… she was…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” his head rises, leaving a pool of steam and he avoids your gaze, turning his attention to the rain, outside. “She was already expecting for a couple of months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… who’s the father?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just some… lad she met in one of those trips. I didn’t know him back then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back then…” it echoes in your head, with the imagery of a young Carl, deep bags under his eyes, in the middle of coding sheets, all spread on his floor, under his feet. “Back then? Does that mean you… met him? After that…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A known heavy sigh echoes in the deafening silence of the room as Carl’s head tips back. His pained expression deeper. “Let’s just say we… ran into each other in a grocery store. A couple of years ago...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t help solidary tears on the corner of your eye as Carl tries so bravely to avoid his own. Taking his hand, your voice drops in volume. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was…” he can’t help rubbing his eyes, forehead and chin, all in one motion. His frustration is clear, along with sadness, pouring out in his next words. “And a couple of kids. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so…” his hesitation is enough for you to know his next phrase, but he snaps his fingers, with a sarcastic resolution. One you’ve never seen before. “Happy... I’ve never seen her smiling like that. At least, not with me, anyway...” he shrugs as he joins his palms in front of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” you place a hand on his shoulder, brushing your finger close to his collarbone. “Don’t blame yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rich…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m serious!” a hand thrown in the air suffices to catch his eyes as you continue, a little more energetic. “She was unhappy, but it wasn’t because of you, Carl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… that’s what Janice said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“J-Janice?” your eyes fall on his, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… Dr. Waiters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still lost here, babe…” you smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Sorry. My th-therapist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs at your reaction, his expression softening a bit. As you lick your lips with a grin, you shoot him a bashful look. “Sorry. I’m gonna stay quiet until you finish your story about Nicole...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. That’s pretty much it. It turns out, she was unhappy with me, couldn’t find a way out, changed her mind about having children, and instead of talking to me about it, and breaking up with me, she was… too afraid. Until she got pregnant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just gonna say something, and you might hate me for it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you’re gonna say, because you’re a decent human being… babe. But go ahead. Say that it’s not her fault of changing her mind, and I don’t get to poke at her over this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which you’re not… but she did make a mistake by going behind your back, instead of just facing the reality. That was shitty of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was shitty of her. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t want to get pregnant back then. As far as I understand, it wasn’t planned...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel your chin dropping. “Wow… really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. She talked about it and it just felt… like something that she wasn’t ready, but she embraced it anyway because it was what she wanted. Eventually.” He shakes his head. “And you’re right. I don’t care about the fact that she changed her tune, but when you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses, rubbing his temples, then combing his hair with his fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you were all over me because of work, not letting go of that particular thing, I just figured… I… I-I don’t know... like I said…” he sighs after biting his lips. A bite that prevents his misty eyes from streaming tears. “I thought that was how a relationship was supposed to be. I thought she was being supportive by not interrupting me, and instead, she wasn’t…” he hisses with a disappointed gaze. “She wasn’t even with me anymore. It wasn’t “support”, it was… rejection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was!” he throws his arms. “And I didn’t think something could hurt so badly, you know?” his head shakes as if realization was dawning on him. “I always saw tv shows, talking about a heartbreak, and always thought to myself “That’s an exaggeration! Stop! It can’t be that bad!”, but once I went through it, I just…” he catches his tears as they roll on his cheek, his voice trembling. “I just couldn’t believe someone could be so clueless. Careless about their partner’s feelings, you know? She didn’t care enough about me. Not even to break my heart in a better way…” he wipes his face violently. “She just chose to leave it to the last second and…” his voice loses steam and he raises his brows with disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you know what’s the worst part? She couldn’t break up with me before, but she managed to tell me that she was pregnant with another man’s child! It wasn’t even showing, for fuck’s sake! She could have spared my feelings, but no…!!” He bangs a fist on the counter, cheeks flushing rapidly as he loses control over his welled up eyes. “She didn’t give a fuck!! And I couldn’t just…” Carl buries his face in his hands, several drops rolling on his forearms, staining the sweatshirt’s sleeves. It takes him a couple of sobs before he can pull away, sniffing violently as his voice regains anger, jabbing a finger on his own chest. “I don’t wanna sound selfish here, but she didn’t think about me. She didn’t spare me of anything, and after that, I was… I was completely lost. I… couldn’t trust anyone… and I-I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grip is gone as fast as the first breath you let out, not controlling your misty eyes. In a flicker, you bring him into an embrace, running your hand on his hair. He reluctantly lets your arms hold him in place, letting go of his stiffness, gradually. His voice comes out in low volume, midst his shaky tone. “I’m sorry, babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh…  it’s gonna be alright...” You speak into his ear with the best reassuring tone you can give, even though you’re not sure of how trembly your own voice is. “I’m here. And I’m gonna stay here. Do you hear me? I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He awkwardly wipes under his eyes and pulls away from your hug, sobbing, his eyes searching for yours. “Please, please, just... promise me something.” His voice can’t hold its tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me if you…” he licks his lips, a deep sharp breath coming out spaced. “If you ever feel like you don’t love me anymore…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, determinedly. “I’m serious. If you ever feel like I’m not the man you want, you’ll let me know… right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me.” He places his elbows on his thighs, burying his face in his palms, once more. His back and chest rise and fall rapidly, as more tears run on the sleeves of the hoodie. His speech is muffled, but clear. “Please, promise me.” He repeats his words, his undertone as painful as the image of him, avoiding eye contact, shame all over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not…” you’re cut short as he raises his head, face completely washed out with tears. You hesitate for a moment, getting a grip of your own voice, to give him the best support you can deliver at this moment. “I… I promise.” You cup his chin, bringing his eyes to level with yours, catching his tears with your thumb, pulling strands of his hair far from his forehead. “Carl, I also promise to stay by your side. As long as we love each other…” Your gaze holds his, sharing a pained expression. “… as long as you are the same person that I fell in love with…” there’s a pause followed by a stuttering sigh. “… as long we can forgive each other for everything we did, I… I’m gonna stay with you. I’m gonna be here for you, no matter what comes our way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head tips forward as he finds shelter on the crook of your neck, his arms snaking their way to the sides of your body, slowly staying on your back. He holds you as firmly as you hold him, a feeling of urgency in your hearts as you enjoy each other’s warmth, for a long, and much needed, moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the entire time you’ve been together, Carl has always avoided strong emotions, or even, a closer look at his life before you came in. He never displayed this level of trust, or vulnerability. Maybe once, after a shower, but even then, he was still holding back from showing how fragile, and sensitive, he truly can be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you slide your palm up and down on his back, he mirrors your motions, on yours. The coldness of his fingers slowly gains a warm, pleasant temperature. More than just a warm touch, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for since he left your place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sincere moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t about the heavy dreams, or the lack of them. His nerdiness or sweetness. Not his takes on your favorite movies and tv shows, and how they affect the whole plot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not just a nerd. Just a dweeb, or an alien. He’s a man. With feelings. With a heart so gigantic, you couldn’t believe the first time you saw through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This Carl, that looks forward to healing. To let go. And to learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the man you missed. And that’s the man you always knew was gonna be the one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This man that cares and loves and fights the right battles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man you never expected to be so close, but are happy to just be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breathing goes calmer, with every minute you stay in each other’s arms, along with yours. His head stays still, and as the rain progresses outside, the embrace becomes tighter. Neither of you are ready to let go. Understandably, neither of you are done. Not even close. But as you shift on your seat, to accommodate his arms better, he winces with a sharp hiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry…” you pull away with a concerned look on your face. “Did I hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… no. it’s nothing.” He rubs his shoulder, peeking through the opening of the sweatshirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… what’s going on? Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks flush, intensely, as he gets up to open your fridge. “Sort of…” he smiles, a little more relaxed. “I have this… scrape on my shoulder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You follow his lead, now grabbing an ice pack to fill in, from one of the drawers. “W-what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… you’re gonna laugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in need of a laugh…” you shrug as you help him filling in the ice recipient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Fair enough… everything started when I went to Brazil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least seven different reactions invade your expression before you can settle on “shocked”, Carl tilting his head back as he laughs at your wide eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… wh-what… is this… wh-what… ok…” you stammer. “So… first, you were engaged, then you’re telling me you went to Brazil… what’s next?! We’re getting married?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh at ease, staring at him, then Carl adopts a serious tone, wrapping your fingers around the ice pack, slowly taking a knee on the floor. He hisses with pain as he reaches for his pocket and you watch as he looks up, at you, with a sweet look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe… I love you. So much...” His smile widens as he places a hand on his heart, the other still close to his belt. “And you make me so happy, just by existing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait…” he raises an arm, stopping you. “I’m completely, and utterly, in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl…” you cover your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I can’t seem to shake the feeling we belong together. So… there’s a question I need to ask you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stay frozen in place, your fingertips running cold as the blood seems to rush to your heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe… will you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles sweetly, taking your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles, his grin reaching his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you… take that bloody kettle from the stove before it burns?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my god!! You clown!!!” you slap his arm multiple times, with both hands, gasping with exaggeration. He shields his shoulder and chest from your attacks, laughing at your shock as you hiss with livid energy. “You absolute clown!! Stop laughing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry…” he walks backwards, snorting awkwardly, as you corner him next to the fridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolute fucker! Shut up! Stop laughing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “I can’t!! you should’ve seen your…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up!!” you talk through your teeth, now letting a smile take place, but still, moving on to slap his thighs and sides of his body. “You’re a fucking clown!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hearty laughter continues as he grips both of your wrists, placing your hands on his back. “This is for that one time you said I’m not funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I said that was a joke!” you pinch his shoulder. “And this wasn’t funny!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg to differ! I’m still laughing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” you turn to escape his arms, but he brushes your elbow with his fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!! Go make a fake proposal to someone else.” You fold your arms on your chest, looking up, averting your gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe…” his laughter is contagious and his snorting more frequent. As he brings you closer, he turns you, slowly, so your foreheads rest, and he lets out one last chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you done, yet?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I’m done…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t look like it!” you slap him once more, playfully, before his knuckles graze both sides of your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but it was… too easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too easy…? Huh… title of your sex tape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry? Did I strike a nerve, Gallagher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes at you, before smirking. “I remember we were both very eager!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re remembering it wrong, then. Cause I’m pretty sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts you short as he brushes his lips on yours, his hands holding each side of your jaw, a suave touch of his thumb. His kiss is sweet and gentle, and as he pulls away, the kiss lingers, leaving you breathless for a couple of moments. “I’m sorry, you were saying…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes drift to his chin, the stubble bouncing back the light. “Can’t remember… do it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans over, at ease, shaking his head with a kind gaze. “Always…” his lips take yours and he holds the sides of your head. A smile peeks through and a chuckle escapes him when you hold his elbows, deepening the kiss. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His whisper comes through your mouth as he takes you in his arms, holding your waist. “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>check out carl's ex-fianceé's sheet here: <a href="https://ravenadottir.tumblr.com/post/642573087810977793/who-are-they-carls-ex-fiance%C3%A9-where-can-i-find">nicole</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Reminiscence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After you and Carl had a talk, and finally were back on track again, he pays an urgent visit to his therapist.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you missed nicole's character sheet, you can find it here: <a href="https://ravenadottir.tumblr.com/post/642573087810977793/who-are-they-carls-ex-fiance%C3%A9-where-can-i-find">nicole</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tap, tap, tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the waiting room, it was possible to see a wildly nervous Carl, doing a mental count of how many sessions he’s been with Dr. Waiters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tap, tap, tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His leg was trembling on top of the other as he crossed them, in an attempt of looking casual and composed on that uncomfortable couch in the waiting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tap, tap, tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind wasn’t as sharp this morning, and you could say he was looking stressed out. turning his head from side to side, trying to visualize a calming setting as he stood in his spot, restless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tap, tap, tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could that be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After so long he was finally back with the girl of his dreams, and even more, she was happy about it. Open and receptive of his past, and how far he’s come, relationship wise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tap, tap, tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it always like this?” he thinks to himself, tapping a navy-blue pen on his lap as he waits for his appointment’s time to come. “I don’t remember being so nervous… why am I so nervous?” Without noticing, his lips were moving, mumbling words under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tap, tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Gallagher?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes go wide as the receptionist’s voice pulls him back to reality, her manicured finger indicating Waiters’ office door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?! S-sorry… sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok. Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright? Would you like some water?” she says, worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so… she’s ready for you, Mr. Gallagher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Monica.” With a scurry, he got up from his seat, smiling awkwardly on his way to the door. “Do I look nervous?” he asks, stopping abruptly by the counter, before turning the doorknob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… yes.” Her expression, twisted with a cringey yellow smile, was solidary if not pitiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The interior of the office stayed the same since a couple of weeks ago, except for a small picture frame on her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl was always registering everything in the places he walked in, sort of like a mechanism of control, to distract himself from his own nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And today, his eyes were scanning more than usual. “Stay cool, Carl. No one is noticing… well, Monica did. But she’s very perceptive! Nothing to worry about. You don’t even know why you’re…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl?” Sitting on her usual spot, Dr. Waiters’ torso and head were tilted forward, trying to catch his attention. “Take a seat.” She pointed her pen to the couch in front of her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> usual sitting spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry… I’m just…” he scratches the back of his head, taking a seat. “… distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” Sharply taking notes, she turns her attention to him, her clipboard in hands, hovering as she looks over the rim of her glasses. “So, tell me. Why are we in an emergency session this morning, Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites his lip, looking through the lateral window, watching as the trees shake its leaves with the breeze, reminiscing on last night’s storm. “Well, last night I um… I talked to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her? Who?” the therapist’s responses were always calm and natural.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My… girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” a tone of surprise with a slight undertone of satisfaction escapes her lips as she continues. “Do you want to discuss it? Tell me how it happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shapes of dry droplets, on the window glass, were numerous, although erased by the surprisingly warm morning. His eyes would follow the patterns formed by the rain, slowly tilting his head to the sides, to see it better. “Apparently… our friends joined forces. They knew we wanted to get back together and sort of…” he squints, counting a double droplet. “… “parent trapped us”, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parent trapped?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Carl’s gaze now follows the drizzle on the outside, hitting the window, forming new parallel patterns as he speaks again. “It’s a movie. A couple has twin girls, they get divorced and each one takes a child to their respective home, in different continents.” He taps the pen on his chin, as if he was explaining an elaborate scheme of bitcoin. “Then one day, both girls go to a camp and find out to be a twin. They set their parents on a date, to try and get them back together. And it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” Dr. Waiters smiles. “You see yourself as the father of the group?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” suddenly his full span of attention is focused on her as he cringes, raising his brow. “No, of course not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl.” She smiles. “I knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> particular observation would get your attention.” The grin widens as her patient exhales with relief. “Tell me how you agreed to go back together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We sort of saw each other earlier that night. I was going to the movies, and we bumped into each other before I could catch my session.” his breath catches as he finishes his thought. “We talked for a bit, but she was rushing the chat so she could leave, which she did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found out later that she thought the girl with me was my date.” His eyes fall on his own shoes, counting the lines of thread on the sides of the laces. “Which felt weird. Roni is just a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be… Gary’s girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “Yeah, that’s her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or how you called her last time, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>your Chelsea”.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yep.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened after that? After your friends... “parent trapped” you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles to himself, shaking his foot as he continues counting different elements of his own shoe. “We… took a cab to her place. And…” he purses his lips as he remembers. “We talked. A lot. She told me what she did during our break, I told her what I did on mine… and um…” Carl cuts himself short, taking a deep breath as he contemplates Dr. Waiters’ shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… what happened then?” she asks, fully aware of his distraction, writing down on her clipboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I told her about Nicole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The therapist’s brows raise as she opens her mouth to speak, no sound coming out. Her wrist works as the pen, again, writes her observations. “You told her about your ex-fiancée?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did… before we… um…” he clears his throat, furrowing his brows, looking up under his lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see. Before you had intercourse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t use that word. It’s… kinda gross.” His cheeks reach a deep tone of crimson as he scoops his hair to the side. “It sounds like biology class, and I don’t want to think about Mr. Thorne when I think about sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” With a content smile, Dr. Waiters tilts her head forward, Carl’s focus fully on her. “So you lost that fear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fear?” he asks, fiddling with his thumbs on the band of his watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of talking about Nicole with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carl, when you first told me about your ex, you also told me how afraid you were, of discussing her with your current girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True… I don’t know.” His fingers stop the motion on his wrist, his eyes rising from his hands. “I felt like she deserved to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how did she react?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof… she was shocked. A little upset about the situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prior situation? Or the situation you both were in, last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both, I guess.” He starts biting his inner cheek, scratching his opposite shoulder over his thick wool coat. “I can’t blame her. It took me too long to tell her about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was the reasoning behind your apprehension still the same?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>defeated, he tosses his head back, shutting his eyes for a brief, but painful moment. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what made you tell her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without hesitation, Carl gathers himself, his hands on his knees, perfectly still and composed. “Did I ever tell you about the last time I saw her? I mean, Nicole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you haven’t. Would you like to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stammers. “Y-yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She removes her glasses, folding the hinges and placing the pair on her desk, behind her. “Proceed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to…” he points at his shoes, and after a nod of approval, he takes them off, lying his back on the cushions, getting comfortable. “It’s a long story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It always is, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since last night, Carl smiles, carelessly. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straights himself on his spot, adjusting his shoulders on the back rest. “It happened almost five years ago. I had to buy a car for my company, and my old one was… well, it was old. Dea told me about a car dealership downtown, where I could buy one off price. And I don’t need to tell you why that was important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a nod, Carl closes his eyes, picturing his interaction with a very cartunesque looking man, plaid suit, brown shoes, a receding hairline line, holding a price tag for a navy blue sedan, talking under his thick and combed mustache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see boy, this car’s price is gonna skyrocket before they do, to find water on Mars! You need to take advantage of this price, otherwise, it’s gonna end up with a new one value.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somehow, I doubt it.” Carl said, tipping his head to look inside, locating the wheel as he continued. “If anything, it’s gonna stay the same if I don’t get it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright.” The salesman touched his shoulder, bringing him to a half hug, walking him in the agency towards the inner office. “I’ll cut you a deal, but only if you close it today, yeah?” he pointed a finger, luring a laugh from his target. “How ‘bout we close it on 6 grand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pounds?!” Carl interjected to the salesman, looking at the nametag on the short man’s jacket. “Come on, mate! Cut me 500, will you?! I’m just starting out here… I have a company, employees, salaries….” His blue, icy eyes adopted a pleading tone to them as he continued. “The wife and the kid… I mean. That’s a lot for just one man, wouldn’t you agree?” he pleaded, just like Andrea taught him. “Cut me a slack on this one, yeah…?” he glanced at the name tag. “Morrison… come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boy…” the man, now striking his own mustache, narrowed his eyes at his client, shaking his head with certainty. “I’ll cut 250.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to kill me, Morrison?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be so dramatic, Carl… you know this car has value.” the older man pointed to the car, behind them, his hands gesturing to the others next to it. “You know it does…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what else has value?” Carl took a trip to memory lane, remembering everything his manager told him in her interview, proceeding to use every single line he could pull out of the hat at that moment. “My hard earned money… that I wake up at 5 and go to sleep at 1, every day, to get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wake up at 5…” the salesman grinned. “You wake up at 5, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it, sir! If you want a company to </span>
  <em>
    <span>skyrocket</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you gotta work for it to happen, right? It’s not gonna rain on me unless I put my blood, sweat and tears on it…” it was almost like Carl was retelling Andrea’s key phrases to negotiate this transaction, smiling every two seconds to make sure he seemed as open as the salesman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You break my heart kid…” it seemed the “quick on the draw” negotiation was about to begin, and as shortly as Carl had that thought, it began. “… I’ll cut 300.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“450 and I’ll pay in cash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“350 and I’ll throw you a new set of windshields…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“400 and I’ll pay you a drink on your lunch time…” the salesman’s brows creased. “…where we can discuss another purchase for next month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chunky mustache slowly curled up as the man smiled. “Another purchase, you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. As a man with his own business you understand how these things need to be worked on, right?” he nudged the man, trying to wink as smoothly as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took maybe three seconds for the man to cave in to the offer, stepping in the office in front of them, followed by Carl. “Wait here, I’ll get the paperwork.” his crow’s feet curved as he grinned, the deep creases and expression lines following the flow, bringing relief to Carl as he watched the man walk away, satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the car dealer disappeared behind a door, Carl felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and small. “It’s not possible.” he thought to himself as the known sweet perfume emanated from behind him, a short but strong presence standing in its spot as he turned to see whose hand that was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed, but smiling slightly, her voice came out with struggle. “Carl. Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was stunned. Astounded. Perhaps even amazed, but still, above all those things, bitter. “Nicole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” She repeated, perching her lips right after, folding her arms as she stared at her shoes, slowly turning to check behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t make the words come out. The smooth and effortless pitching man that was residing in him, just a second ago, was gone. No instructions Andrea gave him, or encouraging nudges her son said, could remediate his state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t a sale or a purchase. or something he could talk his way out, or make flow by simply offering to pay a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the first time he'd ever seen that woman after his heart was broken. The very first contact he had with her since that night in his flat, working in the dark to not use too much electricity, and keep the bill cheap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the way she chose to break that period of silence. “hi”. How dared she? After two years of emptiness and reticence, a simple “hi” was the way she chose to make her presence noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok?” her head tilted as she reached his shoulder. “Carl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged her attempt, taking a step back, staring her from head to toe, noticing her clothes and new haircut. “I’m great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old image he had of her, in his mind, was much more simplistic, and accessible. She was the kind of girl that would pull off anything, from jeans and old t-shirts, to gala dresses and pantsuits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hadn’t changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But her style wasn’t the main concern on Carl’s head at that moment. Or back then. No. He never cared about it. But it was impossible not to notice her posture. The way she stood in front of him. The way her makeup was done, or the way her hair was sitting on her shoulders, perfect and wavy. How her blush pink sweater was covering a dress shirt, or her jeans were impeccably matching what they used to call “mom gear”, whenever they both made fun of a woman carrying her children on a stroller, at the park.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had bags under eyes, visible under the thin layer of foundation she was wearing. Her eyes, though, were still beautiful and deep as they always were. Her eyelashes, naturally curled up, almost didn’t appear now as the signs of tiredness took away the focus from their volume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you.” He said, not being able to stop himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me?” her arms gripped harder on their folding motion, a crease growing between her brows as she narrowed her eyes slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said, “look at you”, Nicole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m confused, not deaf.” She responded sharply, staring back as she raised her eyes from his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… it’s just really confusing to see you in this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>“mom gear”, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t hold back her disappointed expression as she huffed. “Mom gear. Are you being serious right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a fucking heart attack.” Where did that determination on mining her confidence come from? “I bet Marian is over the moon these days, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wounded, Nicole’s eyes fixated on his as she cleared her throat. “Leave her out of this. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok, Carl! If I knew you were gonna act like a knob I wouldn't have even acknowledged your presence here...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should’ve done that instead. You’re great at that, Mrs. Walsh…” he scoffed. “Sorry, sorry. Walsh hyphen Murphy. Is that what it is, now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see you’re still unfunny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see you’re just a soccer mom now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked fast, trying to keep her composure, squaring up her shoulders. “What is your problem?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After two years of not seeing each other, and your last words being “goodbye”, I guess my problem is that you still think your presence is required everywhere you go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t pretend this isn’t about you!” She mocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t!! this isn’t about me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you yelling?!” her voice echoed in the small office, bringing a pained expression to both of their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl’s eyes avoided hers, for as long as he could, now his fingers being nipped, one by one as he tried to conceal his pride. He didn’t want to admit anything to anyone, especially not to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I knew you were so bitter, I wouldn’t have said anything, Carl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was snapped out of his trance, a rage unknown building in his stomach, accelerating his heart and words as he leaned forward, his eyes burning with hate and his throat dry as sand. “Keep that in your small mind next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Appalled, Nicole’s gaze followed as he stepped inside, taking a seat in front of the salesman’s desk. “Why do you have to be such a fucking arsehole?! I apologized a million times already. A million!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?! I didn’t want your apologies, Nicole!” his voice bolted out of his chest as he stood up, biting away tears as he continued, every word he didn’t say, that night she left, making its way out of him, violently. “You caught me! I wanted to be treated like a fucking human being!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a fucking human being?!” she scorned, laughing as she caught a couple of tears under her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! A human being. With a heart, Nicole!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame you didn’t download </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> application, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl stopped on his tracks, every possible comeback he had were now floating in his head, slowly escaping as his tears streamed down his cheek. “What did you just say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Face it, Carl. You were a robot that didn’t know how to act around people! Probably still are…” she gestured to him and his posture, making him take a look at himself. “You walk and talk like a machine. You think like one. And if you were nearly the human you think you are, you would’ve noticed how distant from me you were back then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outraged, he took a deep breath, twining his fingers, staggering back on forth on the tips of his feet. “So you’re saying what… this is my fault?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… I don’t mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you’re saying is I’m the one to blame for </span>
  <em>
    <span>your little indiscretions?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nicole. You just said if I wasn’t such a…” he cut himself short, his gaze falling on her clothes, his lips twisting with disgust. “What happened to you, Nicole?” Suddenly it was more important to crush her than coming out on the other side, well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This…” his palm hovered in front of her, indicating every piece of clothing he disapproved. “This whole… “mom act”. You’re twenty fucking five! Gimme a break!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were a fucking genius! We were on our way to make a difference, to leave a mark! A legacy!” his eyes lit up as he passionately talked about his plans. “We were working our asses off to build something bigger than us! We had a future! Now…” he sniffed with scorn. “You’re just a mom.” He had no control over the volume of his voice. “You have everything! Every fucking thing to be your own person and you chose to… to not be that person! The way you conformed to be someone’s wife… someone’s mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole was taken aback, her hand on her heart, the engagement ring shining under the mild glow from the ceiling lamps. “You know what Carl? What happened to me is…” it seemed she contemplated her next words, to maybe have mercy about whatever she was about to spill. But with one look at him, it didn’t take her much longer to respond. “I’m happy.” His laughter cut her short, but she continued.  “And you hate the fact that you never made me feel like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his grin disappeared from his lips, a slight pout taking its place as he listened to her words, one cutting deeper than the previous one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie happened to me. And I’m happy I met him! I’m happy I got to know him, and I’m looking forward to spending my life with him instead of hiding myself in a filthy apartment... a micro living room that also serves as an office and bedroom!” her words were devouring each piece of dignity Carl thought he still had left. “You can’t live with the idea of other people being happy with anything that isn’t fantastic, or grand, or a fucking legacy!. I’m happy that I don’t have to spend my days with you, cloistered in a room while you think you’re making breakthroughs, but really, let’s face it, you’re just wasting your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a step further, towards him, leaning in. “You’re nothing more than a brain, Carl. And until you find yourself a heart, I’m afraid you’ll never be able to make a girl happy.” She took one more breath, stepping back, watching his posture shattered by her speech. “It was terrible seeing you, and I hope we never do this again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With determination, Nicole stepped out of the small office, following a path to the entrance where a tall and suited man talked to a slightly shorter redhead, shaking hands on what appeared to be a new deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing fully well they would walk in his direction, his heart screamed for him to get out of there. ashamed, he sneaked himself out, craning his head to make sure no one saw him as he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl walked, linking arms to the tall man, now smiling as the salesman shook her free hand. “You’re gonna have a great time with the kids in this one!” he said, leading them inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned her head, almost cocking it, to make sure he wasn’t around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That imagery of the couple, together, smiling, settling on a car together truly was the most painful scene Carl had ever witnessed. The way she laughed and shook her head, after a joke or two, was the lightest he’d ever seen her. Probably the most careless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The happiest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not noticing when, he now realizes he has tissues in his hands, provided by his therapist, looking at him with expectancy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for that, Carl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually words of support and little gestures, like handing a tissue, would work enough to stop his tears from racing on his face. But this is no common memory they’re dealing with, at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen her since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for sharing that, Carl.” Dr. Waiters couldn’t help an involuntary motion of getting up, but before she could, her watch alerted her to end the session. “We’re still going to see each other in two days, so we can talk about those emotions when we do, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a swift movement, with little to none flourish, he picks up his shoes from the rug, walking towards the door, closing the door behind him, silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even though he stayed quiet on his way to his car, his memories of a second encounter, months after the one he described, flooded his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop thinking about the lie he just told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was he lying to his therapist? What was the point? She already knew his biggest insecurities, fears, desires. The things that carried such weight in his mind and heart. He would confide to her, weekly. All of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All but one.” He thought to himself, his fingers playing with his keychain, the little chibi Spock dangling from his grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the car, it seems to be stuffy and hot, enough to make him remove his jacket and untie the so perfectly done knot you gave him this morning. “Fuck’s sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches his own eye on the rearview mirror, ashamed about the choice he just made of simply brushing off the subject, and not telling Dr. Waiters the truth of his past meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But just like he was used to leaving everything emotional for the last minute, this too would be thrown in the back burner for later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, he had work to do, people to visit, measures to take, and most importantly, a company to take care of.</span>
</p>
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